


Show Me Your Teeth

by floralscented



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Characters of color, Emmett Cullen is a disaster bi, Foster Care, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Rosalie Hale/Edward Cullen, Stephanie Meyer is dead and I killed her, Trans Male Character, neither bella nor jasper are in this one, original characters of color, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22909576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralscented/pseuds/floralscented
Summary: All 16-year-old Honey Hart wanted was to make it to 18 without getting kicked out of his latest foster home and MAYBE find out what happened to his missing older sister. The last thing he needed was for his life to be overrun by drama, danger, or vampires- or worst of all, dangerously dramatic vampires. Unfortunately, fate didn't seem to have gotten the memo.
Relationships: Emmett Cullen/Honey Hart, Emmett Cullen/Original Character(s), Emmett Cullen/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	1. Boy in the Bubble

**Author's Note:**

> A few bits of housekeeping before we get too far into this- While this is a Twilight fic, I'm having fun with it, so I'm taking a few liberties. Firstly, Jasper doesn't exist (or at least isn't a Cullen) in this fanfiction. Mostly for the sake of convenience, but also because I hate him for being a creepy Confederate weirdo. The ships are gonna be Emmett/OMC, Alice/OFC, Rosalie/Edward, and Carlisle/Esme. This fic is set in modern day, where the Cullens either never met Bella Swan or she never got involved with them. Not because I don't like Bella, she just doesn't fit here.  
> Lastly, OMC is a black trans man. It'll probably be mentioned at some point in the story, I just wanted to put it out there right away so I don't have to deal with any racist/transphobic bullshit. If you don't like that, tough tits babe. The back button is right there, feel free to make use of it.  
> Anyway, that’s enough rambling from me. Enjoy, and please drop me a review when you're done!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punch my face, do it 'cause I like the pain  
> Every time you curse my name  
> I know you want the satisfaction, it's not gonna happen  
> Knock me out, kick me when I'm on the ground  
> It's only gonna let you down  
> Come the lightning and the thunder  
> You're the one who'll suffer, suffer

Here’s the thing- Honey was pretty sure that, for once, this bullshit wasn't even his fault. It's not like he'd started the fight with the guy- he'd simply ended it. And if anything, everyone should be admiring his patience. He'd put up with nearly two months of transphobic comments and thin veiled threats before the asshole had the audacity to grope his ass and snap what was left of Honey's (admittedly minimal to begin with) self control. As far as he was concerned, breaking that fucking neanderthal's arm was practically a public service. But had his foster parents seen it like that? Noooo, of course not. They'd lost their minds, throwing around annoying buzzwords like 'patterns of violence' and 'lack of self control' and, worst of all, 'a danger to the other children.' Which, okay, seemed like a bit much. He’d tried to cut in a few times to defend himself, but eventually he had seen that it was a pretty pointless endeavor- they had already made up their minds that he was no better than a rabid dog. It probably didn't help that the poor fucker whose arm he'd broken just happened to be their biological son. Oops.

So, just like that, they'd washed their hands of him. If Honey was being honest, he couldn’t say that was a particularly upsetting turn of events. It wasn't the worst foster home he'd been in (not by a long shot) but it hadn't been that great either. The parents were clearly the type of people who had good intentions, and they'd at least had the decency to respect Honey's name and pronouns, albeit with a frankly insulting air of indulgence. The other children left a lot to be desired, but that was pretty much par for the course. One of the girls had a bad case of sticky fingers (which was annoying, but manageable- it wasn’t like Honey had anything of real value these days), one of the younger boys had anger issues (which honestly, was pretty understandable, given his general situation), and the biological son, well... see above.

With all that in mind, Honey would have been perfectly content to pack up and head for his next prison- oh, excuse me, _home_ \- if it hadn't been for the bombshell his newest social worker, Wendy, dropped on him as his latest/former house disappeared in the rear view.

"What do you mean, this is my _last chance_ ?" He demanded from his place in the backseat. Which, could Honey just say, was fucking bullshit. He was plenty old enough to sit in the front. He resented being shoved into the backseat like some unruly five year old. Wendy was probably too scared of his “uncontrollable temper” to sit next to him, which he resented. His temper was perfectly under control, thank you very _fucking_ much.

"I mean exactly what I said, Honey," Wendy answered him, her tone infuriatingly calm. To her credit, she looked and sounded fairly unshaken. Huh, maybe it was just pettiness keeping him banished to the backseat like a damn toddler. "In the past 13 years that you’ve been in care, you've been in 23 different placements. Twenty-three! That's unacceptable, and speaks to an unsettling pattern on your end."

Honey couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "God, that's fucking bullshit and you know it. Not all of them were my fault! Sometimes parents decided not to foster anymore, or were declared unfit. Besides, half of those were caused by R-..." 

"Listen, kiddo," Wendy noticed his stumble, softening a little out of obvious pity. Which, _eww_ . The last thing he needed was for some overworked social worker who hadn’t known he existed six months ago to start _feeling sorry_ for him. "Even if we wanted to keep re-homing you indefinitely, it's just not possible. It's not as if the system has an infinite line of foster parents eager to take in sullen, trouble-making teenagers. We've basically run out of potential placements for you. This is the last family willing to give you a try; after this, our only option is a secure care facility."

"I could just get emancipated. Then I wouldn’t be anyone’s problem anymore,” he snapped, more venom in his voice than he’d intended. He sank down in his sea, crossing his arms over his chest. God, _re-home_. It made him sound like a mangy dog or something. 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, Honey. _You_ aren’t a problem, it’s your behavior that’s problematic.” Wendy said patiently, trying to catch his eye in the rearview mirror. When Honey steadfastly refused to play along, she gave up, letting out a soft sigh. “And as to your other point, you and I both know that no judge in their right mind would look at your history and declare you responsible or mature enough to take care of yourself."

Honey didn't bother acknowledging what she said. He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere on that point- he never had, no matter how hard he tried. "Where are we headed, then? Tell me I don't have to stay in this crappy town. If I still have to be confronted by that smarmy cock and his friends every day I can't promise I won't break the other arm."

Wendy cut him an unimpressed look in the rear view mirror but otherwise didn't reprimand him. She was learning to pick her battles- very smart of her. "No, you aren’t staying here.You're going to Charlotte- it's this tiny little fishing village a few hours north of here. Cute, but quiet. We’ve decided that a more rural environment might be beneficial to you."

Honey groaned, slumping further down in seat, until he had almost slid out of his seatbelt. Fuck, could this get any worse? Small towns were the _worst_ , especially if he was supposed to be behaving himself. Not only would he probably have to deal with twice as many ignorant assholes, but there would be fuck all for him to do with his time. He couldn't even resort the old standby of recreational drugs and alcohol, since this was apparently his last chance. God, a year and a half of boredom, country bumpkins, and being on his best behavior? If Honey made it out of this with his sanity intact, he would be shocked.

_000000000000000000000000000000000000_

Honey had to hand it to Charlotte; it may be a podunk shithole, but at least it was _pretty_ podunk shithole. Well, it probably would be on a nice day. It was currently living under an oppressive shroud of angry grey clouds and miserable drizzle. Other than that though, It looked like the quintessential cute seaside town- one main road along the coast with a few quaint shops and local businesses, a nice beach (abandoned currently due to the weather), and a singular gas station with a little Tim Horton's attached. It looked like a damn postcard.

Honey hated the place on principle.

The drive had remained blissfully silent after Wendy's earlier revelation, mostly due to Honey putting on headphones and stubbornly pretending that the world outside his window was endlessly fascinating. Wendy gave up on trying to engage him pretty quickly after that. As they began to make their way down the main road at an annoyingly slow speed- curse small towns and their snail’s pace speed limits- Honey deigned to remove his headphones, leaning forward to poke his head between the front seats.

"This is it?" He asked, as if the charmingly weathered sign proclaiming ' _Welcome to Charlotte!'_ hadn't been quite convinced him. "This looks like the kind of place old people come to die quietly."

"Don't be so negative," Wendy admonished, although she didn’t look too enchanted by the town either. Hypocrite. She turned her blinker on when they came to a stop sign, waiting for a moment before turning down one of the residential side streets. "Think of this as a fresh start, rather than a last resort. I think you could really enjoy this place if you give it a chance."

. "Yeah, sure, Wendy. This is clearly where I belong, in the most stereotypical tourist trap town known to man. I'll try not to cream my pants out of sheer excitement for this amazing opportunity."

"Well, I don't know about tourist trap," Wendy countered, grimacing at his overly vulgar statement. "From what I've heard, today's weather is pretty standard fare around here. Not quite a common vacation destination.”

Honey scoffed. "Great, that makes it so much better. Not only am I trapped in the shittiest fishing village known to man, but I’m _also_ going to have to live in a cliche horror movie location. You realize the black kid never survives until the end, right? If you’re trying to kill me off, there are easier ways to do it."

Surprisingly, Wendy had nothing to say to that for a few moments. They drove up the hill, coming to a cul de sac populated by a few nice, two-storey homes. They pulled into the driveway of a charming home with a large front porch and navy blue shingle siding. The front door and shutters were a bright sunny yellow, which Honey thought was kind of daring. Once the car came to a stop, Wendy turned in the seat, meeting Honey’s eyes. "I know this isn't an ideal situation. Hell, if I was in your shoes, I'd probably be feeling the same way. But this is where your choices have gotten you, Honey. Plain and simple. You can continue on as you always have- make rash, thoughtless decisions, and ruin your last chance at something good. Or, you can grow up and finally make an effort at belonging somewhere. In the end it's up to you, but I know what option I'd go with."

Honey stared at her, processing her words. He didn’t think he had ever had a social worker be so painfully blunt with him. He found his opinion of the woman rising a few notches. It wasn't until Wendy reached for the door, giving it up as a lost cause, that he finally spoke. "I'll try my best, okay? No promises."

Wendy smiled tiredly. That was the best she was going to get, and she knew it. The pair climbed out of the car together, Honey reaching into the SUV's trunk to grab his single duffel bag. He couldn't help the familiar tingle of trepidation as the climbed the drive way toward his new, hopefully not _too_ temporary, home. What if he didn't like his foster parents? What if they didn't like him? What if they were abusive, or racist or transphobic, what if he-

His train of thought was cut off by the sunny yellow front door swinging open, revealing a woman. She didn't seem too old, maybe in her mid to late forties, with long grey-streaked chestnut hair gathered at the nape of her neck with a large hair clip. Her face was pretty, yet careworn, light wrinkles around her kind brown eyes and smile lines around her mouth. She was average height, maybe an inch or two taller than Honey, and seemed to be of medium build in her striped blouse and faded jeans. Honey didn't let her warm, inviting appearance fool him, however; he had been around the block two many times for that. Plenty of people could put on a good show around social workers. Oftentimes, an appealing exterior only served to disguise an absolutely rotten interior. It was only after Wendy left that he would be able to get a good idea of what kind of person this woman was.

"Hi, you must be Honey," the woman greeted him, coming down the steps to shake his free hand. Honey privately put one point in her favor- he hated when foster parents tried to greet him with a hug right off the bat. It always came off as fake and uncomfortable. "My name is Helena."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," He greeted politely, if a bit blandly. No need to start of rude, after all. He would have plenty of time to be a little shit if she turned out to be less than ideal. 

The woman waved him off with a soft smile. "Please, call me Helena. You'll hopefully be staying here for a while, no need to be formal. Now why don't we head inside, get you situated?"

That was Wendy's cue to head out, apparently. She reached out and gave Honey's shoulder a soft squeeze, which he tolerated with minimal resentment. "I better head out, kiddo. It's a long drive home. We’ll be in touch soon, I’ll come and check on you in a month or so, depending on when I can get out here. Remember what I said, and try to stay out of trouble, huh?"

Honey gave a noncommittal shrug, refusing to make eye contact.He already made a tentative agreement to try to make this shitshow work, he didn’t owe her anything else. Seeming to recognise that he was at the limit of his patience with her for the day, Wendy released his shoulder and went back to her car. Honey did his best to ignore the little tug of apprehension he always felt when left alone at a new foster home. He didn’t have time to be a pussy. 

“Do you want me to carry your bag for you?” Helena offered, catching Honey’s attention. When he shook his head mutely, Helena didn’t press. “Alright, then. Let’s go inside, it’s a bit chilly.”

Honey nodded and followed Helena into the house, making sure to slip off his red low-top sneakers at the door. He did a quick glance at the shoe rack as he placed his sneakers on it, noting that there didn't seem to be any children's shoes. Most likely, he was the only foster child at the moment. He gave an internal cheer; other children were the _worst._ Helena led him up the staircase right beside the front door, glancing back at him.

"Sorry in advance for the state of your room. We haven't had any placements for a while, so we’ve been using it as a guest room for the last few years. It’s pretty bare bones right now. If you don't like it, we can go into town next weekend and buy some new things, help you make the space your." Honey nodded along absently, trying to seem like he was paying close attention. He'd been through this whole rigmarole enough times to know that taking his new foster mother up on the offer would be a bad idea. No need to get emotionally attached to new shit that he most likely wouldn't even get to keep when he left. He'd just stick with whatever was already there.

Surprisingly, what was there was pretty fucking awesome. It was spacious, and if Honey didn’t know any better, he would have said it was the master bedroom. The walls were painted a bright mustard yellow that Honey instantly fell in love with. There was a huge picture window on the far wall, a white desk set up underneath it. A large white furry carpet covered the light colored wide planked hardwood floors, and a king size bed with an upholstered navy blue headboard was tucked into the corner, pressed lengthways against the wall closest to the door, the headboard sharing a wall with an unknown door. There was a tall white dresser on the other side of the room, and the closet seemed far too big for Honey’s meager wardrobe. Honey made his way further into the room, setting his duffel bag down on the ground with a soft thump. If this what Helena called _bland_ , he was curious to see just what constituted as properly decorated in her world.

"I'll let you settle in," Helena said from her place by the door. Thank god, she wasn't going to be one of those annoying hover parents who tried to hold his hand through everything. "I'll call you down for dinner, but until then, feel free to unpack or nap or whatever you want. I'm sure today has been pretty tiring for you."

Honey nodded, already making his way over to the big, comfortable looking bed. Not wanting to be rude to the woman who seemed relatively chill so far, Honey smiled at her. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm pretty beat."

Helena hummed softly, breezing out the door and closing it behind her. Honey noted that the door has a lock which -thank fucking god- locked from the inside. After a quick detour to flick off the lights and engage the lock, Honey stripped off his pants and sweater, then crawled into the bed. Unpacking could wait, he'd earned a fucking nap

_00000000000000000000000000000000000_

If there was one thing Honey could always count on to hold true, it was the mind-numbing boredom that came with the first day in a new foster home. He'd managed to eke out a measly hour and a half of rest before his traitor of a body decided that he didn’t need anymore sleep. He'd wasted another hour taking all his clothes out of his duffel and filling up half of the dresser and a quarter of the closet, which served to illustrate just how desperately he needed clothes. Hell, if Wendy had been telling the truth about the miserable weather here, then a good portion of his wardrobe would probably be useless. Once he finished internally bemoaning his lack of job and disposable income to buy new clothes, he was brought squarely to the end of his list of time wasting activities with at least another solid two hours of time before dinner could realistically be ready.

He opened his phone to surf the internet for a while, but frowned when he remembered he didn't have the wifi password. Sure, he could go ask Helena for it, but that felt so… Awkward. He would wait until dinner, when he could hopefully bring it up without it seeming weird and out of place. He flipped through his contacts halfheartedly, knowing there wasn't anyone left that he had any real desire to keep up contact with. Sighing, he gave up, flopping down on the bed. Just as he was settling down to force himself back into a light doze, there was a light tap at his door.

"Yeah?" Honey called out, tone pleasant enough. Internally, he put a tic in his foster parents' favor for knocking rather than trying to barge right in.

"Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind running down to the store for me?" Helena asked from the other side of the door. "I was going to make strawberry shortcakes for dessert, but my husband, Wendall, must have gotten into the strawberries last night, and we used all the whipped cream last time."

Honey bit back his initial response, which was to ask why she'd even bother making it when she was missing two thirds of her ingredients. This was the perfect opportunity he needed to distract himself before he completely lost his mind from boredom. Besides, what kind of monster passed up strawberry shortcake? He got off his bed, pulling his pants back on and shrugging back into his sweater. "Sure, I can do that."

"I'm sorry to bug you," Helena said again as Honey pulled his bedroom door open, sounding genuinely regretful. "But Wendall is out of town for a few days, and I'm in the middle of a project."

"It’s fine," He shrugged it off, shooting her an easy smile. "I wasn't doing anything, a little adventure should be fun."

Helena handed over a twenty dollar bill, already turning away to disappear up to the third floor. "Thank you so much. The Ready-Mart is on the main road, about a ten minute walk to the right."

Honey vaguely recalled passing a building bearing that name on his way into town, and wrinkled his nose. If that tiny thing was the grocery store, he dreaded to see what passed for good retail aroud this shit hole town.

He jogged down the stairs, stopping at the door to pull his shoes back on. As soon as he walked out the door, he noticed that the earlier drizzle had given way to a steady, miserable rain. He briefly considered saying fuck it and turning right back around, but pushed forward, twitching his hood up over his already frizzing hair. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Besides, it couldn't hurt to put himself in Helena's good books.

By the time Honey made it to the Ready-Mart, he deeply regretted his decision. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't cold and wet from the rain. His socks were soaked from underestimating the size of a puddle less than a minute into the walk, and he probably looked like a half-drowned cat, murderous expression and all. He trudged through the automatic doors of the handkerchief-sized grocery store, silently thanking whatever power was listening that the heat was cranked inside. He pushed the hood off his head to stave off any suspicious looks from employees as he made his way over to the truly pathetic produce section near the door. From the look of things, it didn’t seem like he was going to be eating anything more exotic or exciting than grapes for a while. He put off his scathing internal review for long enough to pick out the package of strawberries that seemed the farthest from rotting to his untrained eyes, He then moved on, moving through the aisles until he found the fridges at the back of the store and grabbed an aerosol can of whipped cream. Quest complete, he went up to the cash, setting his purchases down with a light thunk. The cash register was being manned by a short, chubby brunette with shockingly blue eyes. She gave him a funny look as she scanned his items.

"You're not from around here." She said, more statement than question.

“And thank God for that fact,” Honey found himself saying without thought. He winced slightly at the vicious glare the cashier sent his way. Awesome, he was alienating the locals already.

“That’ll be $7.83,” the cashier said, voice clipped. Honey held the $20 bill out, and she snatched it from his hand, practically shoving his change at him. _Well_ , he thought as he took his bag, _guess I can’t count her as my new best friend._

Because his luck was absolute shit on the best of days, Honey ran into with someone on his way out of the way out, literally. The force of the collision was enough to knock him on his ass, straight into a puddle of dirty water. The other person, a tall, douchey looking teenager with hard blue eyes and over-gelled black hair, glared down at him.

"Watch it, faggot," He spat, he and his two asshole friends brushing past into the store. Honey took a deep breath, reminding himself that getting into a fight in the middle of a grocery store on his first day _probably_ wasn’t a cute look. He wasn’t that unhinged, after all. He forced himself to climb to his feet, brushing the dirst off his ass before making his way around the parking lot, glad that Helena hadn’t sent im for something easily breakable.

As he walked down the street, he took a few more deep breaths, willing the tight ball of anger in his chest to loosen. So he'd run into a few assholes. Every town had them, he'd just found them a little earlier than he'd expected. No biggie. Now he knew who he had to avoid. He could handle that. Everything was going to be-

As Honey was giving himself his little pep talk, a silver Jeep Wrangler sped past, driving through a puddle sending up a spray of dirty water that- you guessed it- splashed onto Honey, soaking him to the bone. He stood there for a moment, shocked into stillness, before slowly reaching up to wipe puddle water from his eyes.

“You know what?” Honey said to himself, nodding his head. “That seems about right.”

He fucking hated this town.

00000000000000000000000000000000

After a squishy, miserable walk home, Honey trudged up the front steps of Helena’s porch, forcing himself not to fling the door open or slam it shut as he entered the house. He carefully kicked off his shoes, putting them on the bottom of the shoe rack so they wouldnt drip all over everyone else’s shoes. He made a quick detour to drop off the food in the fridge, leaving the change on a side table in the hall before he his way up to the second floor. He walked down the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the mysterious third floor.

"Helena?" He called up, managing to keep his deep annoyance and general anger at the world out of his voice. A few moments later, Helena peeked her head around the top of the stairs. At first she seemed confused, but one look at her bedraggled form had her eyebrows flying up her forehead as she bustled down the stairs.

"I didn't realize it had started raining, or I would have just driven over myself. I'm sorry, sweetie." She apologized, looking genuinely remorseful, which Honey appreciated.

"Don't worry about it, this is mostly from some passing driver, not the rain," Honey waved it off, feeling the urge to downplay it somewhat for Helena’s benefit, although he had no clue why. "I was just hoping to take a shower, but I don't know where anything is."

"Oh, right! It must have completely slipped my mind earlier." She walked passed him, leading him, surprisingly, into his bedroom. Helena went over to the unidentified door he had noticed when he first came in, revealing his own bathroom. It wasn't anything too extravagant, just a toilet, sink, and shower/bathtub, as well as a linen cupboard, but it was more than he'd ever had before.

"Face cloths and towels are in the cupboard, I think we have some extra body wash, shampoo and conditioner under the sink, if you want to use that until we can get to a store," Helena instructs, before frowning at his wet clothes. "Do you want me to wash those, or would you rather handle that yourself?"

"I can do it, but thank you for offering," Honey answered, appreciating being given the option. The last time he'd let a foster mother wash his clothes for him, he'd never seen them again, replaced with frilly dresses and conservative floral blouses. Helena didn’t seem the type so far, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Besides, once you got used to washing your own clothes, it felt sort of weird letting someone else handle your dirty laundry.

"Okay,no problem. I’ll show you where the laundry room is later. If you need me, I'll be downstairs," Helena said before leaving the room, giving Honey his privacy.

Honey quickly undressed, dumping his wet clothes in the conveniently placed wicker hamper outside the bathroom door. He retrieved a large black towel from the cupboard, laying it out on the tiled floor in front of the tub.He bent down to look at the products available, frowning slightly at the generic bottles of shampoo and conditioner that he knew from experience would be hell on his hair. Oh well, it would have to do for now. He grabbed them, along with a bottle of body wash, and straightened. He settled the bottles on the lip of the tub, climbing behind the grey shower curtain. He turned the water onto almost max heat, flinching away from the cool water that sprayed out before it began to heat up. All the tension seemed to bleed from his as soon as the water hit his skin. He tipped his head back, letting it soak his bedraggled curls. God bless modern comforts.

Honey must have spent close to a half hour in the stall, washing up for a while, but mostly just enjoying the steam and warmth. When he finally managed to drag himself out, he wrapped himself up in his towel and padded out to the bedroom, noting happily that Helena had closed his door on the way out. He dried himself off thoroughly before changing into a loose black t-shirt and navy blue sweats from some high school he'd attended a few foster homes back. He eyed his bed, tempted to lie down and do nothing until supper was called, but decided against it. He really wasn't in the mood to be alone with his thoughts. Instead, he left his room, following the sounds of activity down to the kitchen. May as well make himself useful. Besides, he'd always wanted to learn how to cook. 


	2. Another Brick in the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We don't need no education  
> We don't need no thought control  
> No dark sarcasm in the classroom  
> Teacher, leave them kids alone  
> Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone!  
> All in all, it's just another brick in the wall

Monday morning was the same as every other first day of school: Too bright, too loud, and too _fucking_ early.

When his alarm went off at 7am, Honey was sorely tempted to bury his head under his pillow and try to ignore the damned thing. Unfortunately, he doubted Helena would be impressed if she had to drive him to school because he slept in and missed the bus. He reluctantly rolled out of bed, stripping out of his pajamas and he stumbled into his ensuite bathroom. He washed up quickly, brushing his teeth and making a halfhearted effort to make his hair presentable. After a few minutes of fussing with his unruly mop he gave it up as a lost cause, pushing his tight black curls out of his face with a thin white plastic headband. Satisfied that he looked halfway decent, he headed back into his room to get dressed.

He rooted through his closet for several long minutes, trying to find something appropriate for the first day of school in the middle of the semester, which was harder than it sounded. He couldn’t come off as _too_ put together, or he'd look like a try-hard. But if he went too _casual_ , he'd look like a sloppy weirdo. His goal was to pick something relatively boring so he could blend in with the rest of the crowd and _hopefully_ coast through the next year and a half without making an impression on anyone. After careful deliberation, he picked out an over-sized forest green work shirt over a black undershirt and tight black jeans, deciding that was as good as it was going to get for today. He slung his new backpack, a nondescript black canvas bag over his shoulder and grabbed his cellphone, wallet, and headphones off his dresser, closing his door behind him as he headed downstairs.

Honey jogged down the stairs and turned left, walking down the hall into the kitchen, He was unsurprised to find Helena already at the table, sipping at her coffee as she read the paper. She definitely came off as the early bird type. When Honey walked in, she smiled softly at him, inclining her head toward the stove. "I made pancakes, if you want some."

Honey nodded gratefully, feeling his stomach rumble at the mention of the breakfast food. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had pancakes. Maybe four or five foster homes ago, when he’d stayed with that nice lesbian couple. He had really liked that family, and it had been disappointing when one of their jobs had necessitated that they move across the country. He noticed a plate of bacon sitting nearby as he served himself, but didn’t take any. He wasn’t into eating meat first thing in the morning, it kind of turned his stomach. He sat down, taking a moment to glance at the clock. 7:10, he still had some time. 

"The bus stop is just at the bottom of the hill, right?" He asked, drizzling a generous amount of syrup over his pancakes before tucking in. They'd gone over all of the usual first day of school stuff the night before, but he figured it was polite to make conversation when Helena had made breakfast for him. Besides, it never hurt to double check.

"Yes, right in front of the mailbox. I think there are a few other kids who get on there too, so you can't miss it."

Honey hummed in acknowledgement, letting silence reign once more when he failed to think of another question to ask. He ate his breakfast quickly and stood, rinsing his plate and putting it in the dishwasher. With another glance at the clock, he saw that is was 7:20. Time to head out, unless he really wanted to miss the bus.

"I'm gonna leave now," He told his foster mother, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Okay, have a good day," Helena bid, putting her coffee mug down. "Oh, before I forget- Wendall is getting back tonight, so you'll get to meet him."

"Sounds great, I'll see you tonight," Honey called, already halfway down the hall. He grabbed his baggy denim jacket off the coat hooks on the left side of the door, pulling it on. He pulled his shoes off the wrack, bracing himself on the wall and shoving his feet into them. He did his best to ignore the anxiety trying to take root in his stomach, to minimal success.

In the span of a few days, he'd managed to get a bit of a feel for this foster home. It was one of the nicer ones he'd been in, both in terms of people and the actual home itself. Helena was good. She didn't ignore him, but she didn't hover over him like he was going to have a breakdown or steal all her valuables if she took her eyes off him for a few moments, either. He was scared that this Wendall character was going to turn out to be an asshole or a creep that he'd have to put up with until he either turned 18 or snapped, whichever came first.

(It was pretty fucking obvious which would come first)

Trying to put that out of his mind, Honey walked out the front door, sending up a silent thank you to no one in particular at the overcast but blessedly dry weather conditions. He clomped down the porch steps, making his way down the road at a leisurely pace. He didn't want to make it to the bus stop too early, he might have to ( _God forbid_ ) talk to someone.A sharp gust cut through his jacket, making him shiver violently and pull the faded denim tighter around his chest. This had to be the absolute _shittiest_ town for weather he'd ever had the misfortune of staying in. He was already starting to forget what the Sun's warmth felt like. As soon as he turned 18, he was going to book himself a one-way ticket to the sunniest place he could find and never look back.

It didn't take him long before he made it to the bus stop, which sure enough, had a kid already standing at it. They were a tall, lanky kid with wavy black hair in a sort of asymmetrical pixie cut. They had a warm brown skin tone, obviously from nature rather than nurture. They were dressed in a bulky green canvas coat, a white t-shirt and loose ripped jeans. All in all, they seemed relatively okay. Honey was at least comforted that he wouldn't be the only brown kid at school. He gave the kid a little nod of acknowledgment, and thanked his lucky stars when they just nodded back without taking their earbuds out. It was way too early in the morning for awkward conversation.

The two of them stood in relative silence for a few minutes before the bus rumbled up, coming to a jerky, spluttering stop in front of them. Honey gave the vehicle a wary glance as the doors squeaked open. From the look and sound of the hulking vehicle, it probably should have been retired before he was even born. He wasn’t quite convinced that it was safe to ride in, but he climbed aboard after his bus stop companion nevertheless. It's not like he had any other choice, really. The bus driver gave him a bit of a weird look as he passed, but said the portly man said nothing, just grabbing a pen and jotting something down on the little clipboard on the dash. Honey began walking down the aisle, nearly tripping when the bus jerked and began to drive again before he had a chance to sit down. Cheeks heating up, he quickly picked a seat somewhere vaguely in the middle of the bus, thankful that such a small town meant mostly empty buses. He sat his bag down beside him to discourage anyone from trying to sit with him, then let his head rest against the window, closing his eyes as the scenery blurred by the glass. God, he hoped this day didn't suck.

The bus ride went by quickly, barely 15 minutes passing before they reached their unfortunate destination. Honey stood, slipping in line with the other tired kids as they trudged off the bus.He stepped down onto the cracked and faded asphalt, getting his first look at his new educational prison. It was a small, ugly brick building, the whole front face dotted with little square windows, the kind that didn’t open. In the center of the building, a set of stone steps led up the two rusted green doors, which Honey assumed was the main entrance. Students scattered all over the front of the school, some perched on the steps, others sitting in the wilted brown grass or leaning against the rough brick wall. Honey stood off to the side for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. Finally he shrugged, figuring he might as well go to the office and get his schedule sorted out. It would sort of defeat the purpose of coming to school if he didn’t even know what his classes were or where they took place. 

He headed up the front steps, carefully stepping around and over the inconveniently placed students. He narrowly avoided squashing one girl’s fingers beneath his foot, which earned him a particularly dark glare. Once he got to the top landing he hauled open a heavy green door and slipped inside, letting it clang shut behind him. To his relief, he spotted the office fairly quickly, situated to the left side of the school lobby It was separated from the rest of the space by a long counter that spanned nearly half the lobby, a door off to the side that allowed someone to enter the office. A pretty blonde woman who looked to be in her mid-forties sat behind the counter, typing away on an outdated desktop computer. Honey could hear the distinctive clack of acrylics against the keyboard. He approached the window, doing his best not to look like a problem child. 

"Hi, today's my first day," Honey gave his best approximation of a friendly smile. "I'm-"

"Honey Hart, I know," The woman interrupted him, eyes running up and down his form with a distinctly unimpressed air. Honey found himself retracting his earlier assessment- she wasn’t really that pretty after all. "Helena came and got you all registered last week.Come through the door, the principal will see to you."

Honey sighed internally as he followed the receptionist’s directions, coming through the door he’d noticed before. So it began. It seemed like every time he came to a new school, it was the same thing- they took one look at his long list of past schools and not-insignificant string of behavioral issues, and instantly labeled him as a trouble maker. And if his track record wasn't enough to convince them, the color of his skin and his status as a foster kid usually tipped them over the edge. It wasn't his fault- hell, most of the time he wasn’t even the one who started any trouble, he just happened to be the one who ended it. Administrators didn’t care about that, though. They just cared about having someone easy to blame. 

Steeling himself for the upcoming round of bullshit, Honey knocked on the principal’s door. Almost immediately a gruff masculine voice called for him to enter. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The space was small, a massive cluttered L-shaped desk taking up most of the room. The principal was a tall and portly man with watery blue eyes and a thick pushbroom moustache that couldn't quite make up for his unfortunate combover. His suit looked cheap and ill-fitting, the buttons of his powder blue shirt threatening to give out from the strain of holding his shirt closed over his protruding belly. 

"Ahh, Mr. Hart, welcome," The principal stood and held out his hand to shake, which Honey took. It was doughy and a bit damp, and he had to resist the urge to wipe his palm against his pant leg when his hand was released.

"Thank you, Mister..." Honey trailed off, realizing halfway through that the man hadn't introduced himself.

"Berger. Principal Berger, actually," The man corrected with a smarmy little smile. Honey internally sighed- _great,_ he was one of _those_ men. 

"Thank you, Principal Berger," Honey gave a tight smile of his own, remain standing even as Berger sat back down. He knew it would just be counted against him if he sat down without being invited to. "I'm happy to be here."

Berger hummed, steepling his fingers as he eyed Honey critically. "Yes, I'm sure you are. Definitely a change from all those big city schools you've attended, I’m sure."

Honey resisted the urge to scoff. Only in a town like this could his previous home be described as the ‘big city’. Still, he did his best to contain his derision. "Yeah, it's a bit different, I guess."

“I think you meant ‘yes sir’, not ‘yeah’,” Berger corrected him again. Honey had to physically bite his lip to keep from sneering, so all he could do was nod. Berger didn’t look pleased by that at all. “I think soon enough you'll find that this school is nothing like any you’ve attended thus far. I run an extremely tight ship here, and I don't tolerate disrespect or hoodlums." 

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Honey felt a burning mix of indignation and anger begin to spread through his stomach. He couldn’t believe he was actually being made to sit through this bullshit right now. Was this guy serious? 

Berger leaned back in his seat, not bothering to hide his sneer of distaste as he looked Honey over now. "I’ll be frank with you, Mr.Hart- if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be allowed to step onto my school grounds. You're an unrepentant troublemaker, and you seem to be going nowhere at an alarmingly fast rate. You're disrespectful, arrogant, and have zero regard for your own learning, or the learning of those around you.”

“You get all that from a few pieces of paper, huh? Without even meeting me first?” Honey wasn’t surprised by Berger’s assessment of him. Most of the administrators he’d dealt with over the years had thought pretty much the same thing, even if they hadn’t always been bold enough to say it so plainly. 

“Once you’ve met one troublemaker, you’ve met them all. I don’t need to know you personally to know that you’re a waste of my and my educators’ time. Unfortunately, this is the only high school for over 30 miles, and it's illegal to deny you a standard education when you haven't actually broken any rules here. But rest assured- any slip ups, any misconduct, and you're out. I won't let you waste my time, or the time of my employees. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Honey answered through his teeth. He didn’t trust himself to say anymore than that. He only had so much self-control, after all.

Berger seemed satisfied. He opened one of the drawers in his desk, rustling around until he found what he was looking for. He held out two pieces of paper, and Honey had to resist the urge to snatch them out of his clammy sausage fingers. "I'm glad we could get that cleared up. There's your schedule. It has all your classes for the next semester, plus your locker number and combination. There’s also a map of the school. Classes start at 8am sharp. Don't be late."

Taking that as the dismissal that it very clearly was, Honey stood his chair, nodding stiffly at Berger before turning and walking out of the office. On his way out to the lobby, he caught a glance at the clock. 7:50am.

That _fucker_.

_00000000000000000000000000000000000_

By some divine miracle, Honey managed to find his locker, put his shit inside, and hustle to homeroom (which just so happened to be on the complete opposite side of the fucking school) with about 5 seconds to spare before the bell went off.He stood by the door while the national anthem played, am image of a waving flag playing on the SMART board at the front of the class. After the anthem ended the announcements started, the waving flag replaced by a live feed of a boy and a girl stumbling their way through the morning announcements. Mercifully, the teacher noticed him then and made a vague gesture toward the desks which he translated to mean 'sit anywhere'. The desks were clustered together in pods of four, which wasn’t ideal. He'd much rather sit by himself and avoid any awkward attempts at conversation so early in the morning. Oh well, when had things ever gone they way he wanted? He made his way to one of the few empty seats at a group at the back of the room. Three of the four seats were already taken by a petite blonde girl, the tall kid from the bus stop that morning, and, because Honey was the absolute unluckiest person on the face of the planet, that asshole from the grocery store, the one who had knocked him into a puddle. He cast his eyes around for somewhere else to sit, but there really wasn’t anywhere else that wasn’t right beside the teacher’s desk, and he wasn’t quite _that_ desperate. He sat down at the empty desk. Drawing the attention of the other three. 

"Aren't you that freak from the grocery store?" Asshole sneered, giving him a critical once over. The small blonde girl giggled as if he'd just said something devastatingly clever, and Honey just barely managed to stop himself from rolling his. Jesus, couldn't he go a half hour without being confronted by some over-aggressive dipshit?

"The one and only," Honey gave bland little salute. Ordinarily he'd snap off some cutting response, but he couldn't risk escalating this situation. There was too much on the line for him to land in shit before first period even started.

“Great, another fucking faggot,” 

Honey bristled, body going tense. Right, no, he wasn’t taking that lying down, he had limits. He opened his mouth to snarl something in response, but to his surprise, the kid from the bus stop cut in.

"Jesus, Conrad, would you shut the fuck up? Nobody wants to liten to your homophobic bullshit this early in the morning" They said, rolling their hazel eyes. Their next sentence was directed to Honey. "Ignore him, he was probably dropped on his head as a baby."

"Whatever homos," the boy (Conrad, apparently) muttered, him and his little groupie grabbing their chairs and dragging them over to sit with another group of kids just as the announcements came to an end.

"Thanks for that," Honey felt a little awkward. He hadn't had someone come to his defense like that since- well. For a while. The lanky teen waved him off with a lazy smile, calling Honey's attention to the nick in their right eyebrow. He wondered if it was purposeful, or if it was from a scar. Either way, it looked cool.

"Don't sweat it, I always look for a chance to knock that mouth-breathing jackass down a couple pegs. I'm M.L, and you are...?"

"Honey." Then, before there was any awkward misunderstandings, he added "My name is Honey."

M.L looked him over, but it didn't seem like they were judging him. If anything, they looked vaguely hopeful. They lifted their hand casually to scratch their nose, sleeve falling down to reveal a thin pink, white and blue striped rubber bracelet. "That's a cool name, did you pick it out yourself?"

Honey smiled when he saw the bracelet. Thank god, he wasn’t alone. "Not really. It was a family nickname, and when I came out, I just started using it full time because nothing else felt right. You?"

"Yeah, I picked it out myself a few years ago," M.L answered, grinning back at him. Clearly they shared the same excitement that Honey felt over having another trans person around.

“Does it stand for something?” Honey asked. 

M.L shrugged, long fingers brushing their hair back from their face. “Sometimes, it depends on what my mood is and who’s asking.”

“Fair enough.” Honey shrugged. “Hey, do you think you could tell me where some of my classes are? This place isn’t that big, but I figure showing up late to every class on the first day won’t be a good look.”

“Yeah, for sure. Did they give you a map?”

“Uh huh,” Honey handed his map to M.L. They retrieved a pen from their pencil case, clicking it a few times. 

“This is where we are,” M.L said, circling and area of the map and writing _‘homeroom’_ in small, spiky script. “What are your classes?”

“Chemistry with Mr. Guinness, English with Ms. Hansen, Psychology with Mr. Sterling, Workplace Math with Ms. Abernathy, Art with Ms. Herron, and Photography with Mr. Walsh,” Honey listed off, pausing long enough for M.L to circle and label each class for him.

“Aww, boo- we only have one class together,” M.L handed him back his map, putting their pen away again. “At least it’s right before lunch, so we won’t have to waste time trying to find each other. If you want to eat together, that is.”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Honey nodded, trying not to look as relieved has he felt. Sitting by yourself in a cafeteria on the first day always sucked, so he was glad to avoid that scenario. 

“Awesome,” M.L said. Suddenly, their expression turned very serious. “I warn you though, my table is pretty exclusive.”

Honey raised an eyebrow. “Exclusive, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” M.L gave up the facade, a slightly goofy grin spreading over their face. “As of about 10 seconds ago, we have a membership of exactly two.”

Honey cracked up, covering his mouth to avoid drawing attention to himself with his laughter. Oh yeah, he liked this kid. 

_0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

Honey and M.L parted ways outside of Homeroom, M.L’s first period class being in the complete opposite direction. Thankfully Honey’s Chemistry classroom wasn’t that far from Homeroom, just at the other end of the hall. Even with the almost unbearable congestion of the hall, he made it to his destination in under a minute. He’d hoped his getting there so early would mean he'd have first choice of seats, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. The teacher, a young-ish man with a handsome face and square glasses that gave him a vague Clark Kent vibe, called him over almost as soon as he walked in.

"Hey, I'm Mr. Guinness. You're our new student, Henry, right?" The teacher asked giving him a charmingly boyish smile. He had a bit of an endearingly nerdy Clark Kent vibe, with his dark wavy hair and square thick rimmed glasses. While he wasn’t exactly Honey’s type (he tended to prefer men born in the same decade as him), he imagined that there was probably more than a few students who nursed a crush on the man. 

"It's Honey, actually. Like what bees make," Honey corrected, giving an apologetic shrug. Mr. Guinness frowned briefly, but quickly let it go, thank God. Honey didn’t think he could handle butting heads over something as simple as his _name_ this early in the morning.

"Honey, then. Sorry about that. Anyway, why don't you stand up here with me while I figure out where to seat you?"

Honey repressed a sigh. Assigned seating, of course. Plus he got to added bonus of being front and center, giving his peers ample chance to play a round of ‘gawk at the new kid.’

Sure enough, the next three and a half minutes were full of students either giving him speculative onceovers or suspicious glares. Honey stood by Mr. Guinness' desk, fighting back the urge to turn around and walk right out of class. He had never been someone who would be described as _shy_ , but well, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who enjoyed being stared at like an exotic new zoo animal.

Finally, the bell went off, signaling the end of his torture- or so he thought. Instead of telling him his seat and letting him slip discreetly into it, Mr. Guinness stood up, clapping his hands together to draw attention. "Okay, students, we've got a new student with us. I expect you all to welcome him into our school, and show him some good old fashioned Charlotte hospitality." Here, he turned to Honey with an expectant smile. "Why don't you introduce yourself, tell us where you're from, and three interesting things about yourself?"

Jesus H. Christ. Honey took back every vaguely positive thought he’d had about the man- clearly he was a fucking demon. Gritting his teeth

"Hey everyone, I'm Honey Hart," He started, ignoring the mean-spirited snickering that followed his announcement of his name. There were always a few in every bunch. "I transferred here from Kingston, I’m a Virgo, and I like pina coladas,long walks on the beach, and getting caught in the rain. Just kidding- I’m an Aries ."

Mr. Guinness didn’t seem sure of how to take that, but eventually he waved him toward an empty spot near the back of the room. Well, it served him right; hopefully he’d learned a valuable lesson about putting people on the spot. Honey made his way toward his seat, avoiding bags and inconveniently positioned feet. One seat at his table was already occupied by another- incredibly handsome- boy. The first thing Honey noticed about him was that he was _fucking huge_. Honey hadn’t believed that people with that many muscles existed outside of comic books and porn.Even sitting down, Honey could tell that the other boy towered over him. He looked like he could bench press Honey without breaking a sweat. Hell, his shoulders were almost twice as broad as Honey’s. He had short black hair with just a hint of endearing curls, and eery golden eyes that danced with good humor. His bone structure was that of a modern Adonis, with a square jaw, wide cheekbones, and a strong, straight nose. God, even his fucking eyebrows were perfect. Honey didn't know whether he was turned on or jealous. (Both, definitely both.)

"You’re funny," He said, jolting Honey out of his brief stupor. As Honey took his seat, the other boy flashed him a cheeky grin and sweet love of God, were those dimples? That had to be at least a little illegal. He lifted his hand, brushing the corners of his mouth surreptitiously. No drool, thank God. Honey took a breath, doing his best to get ahold of himself despite his internal freak out over the hotness of the absolute bear of a man beside him. The worst thing you could do in front of a hot guy was show them how hot you found them. It gave them all the power.

"Thanks. If you liked that, you should watch my Netflix comedy special. It's a riot," Honey drawled, opening his binder to the tab sectioned off for first period.

"Hart, right? You must be Kevin's long lost son," The other boy joked, opening his own books as well.

"Oh, Kevin Hart only wishes he was talented enough to be related to me," Honey shot back playfully. The other boy held up his hands in a gesture of peace, grinning widely.

"Right, what was I thinking?"

The conversation pretty much ended there as Mr. Guinness started teaching, giving a lecture on some subject that Honey vaguely recalled learning the basics of the year before. He started taking notes, wincing internally when he realized the class seemed to be at least halfway through the topic already, with Honey barely able to follow along. Chemistry really wasn't his science of choice, but unfortunately when you arrived a month into the semester, you had to take what you could get. Hopefully he could pick up enough to keep his head above water and scrape by with a C. Although with the way everything Mr. Guinness said kept turning to gibberish in his brain, even that seemed like an unrealistic goal.

The end of class came both too quickly and not nearly quick enough. Honey could feel a stress headache coming on from the effort it took to figure out what language Mr. Guinness was speaking in. When the bell rang, he gathered up his stuff and made his way out of the class, not noticing the tawny eyes that followed him until he disappeared from the doorway.

_00000000000000000000000000000000000000_

Honey's other two morning classes went marginally better than Chemistry. English had always been a breeze for him, so he hadn’t had to work too hard to keep up with the rest of the class. His only real worry was catching up with the required reading. Psychology had been a bit difficult, with all the different names and theories being thrown around, but he was confident that he could catch up. He also hadn’t had to put up with the humiliation of introducing himself again, thank God. Both teachers had simply handed him a packet on what he'd missed and let him pick where he wanted to sit from the limited available spots. M.L saved him a seat psychology, which Honey appreciated. They spent most of the period whispering back and forth, M.L lending him their notes.

When the bell rang for lunch, M.L followed Honey to his locker. They leaned against the neighboring locker while he grabbed his binder for the second half of the day (because fuck what teachers said, having a separate binder for each individual subject was stupid) and his lunch. They took a quick stop at M.L's locker before they headed to the cafeteria. M.L gestured him toward their regular table while they waited in the lunch line.

“Go save our spot? This line takes forever most of the time.”

Honey took a seat, settling in and unpacking his lunch. It looked delicious- chicken salad on a soft flaky croissant, a container of mixed berries, and a few homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Definitely better than the bag of chips he would have gotten for himself. Starting in on his berries, Honey looked around the cafeteria, surveying the scene..

It wasn't an incredibly large space, barely large enough to accommodate the few hundred students that were there. It was loud in only the way a room full of obnoxious teenagers could be. People were talking and yelling, and a few different groups were playing music from their crappy phone speakers. Honey spotted Conrad, seemingly holding court at his table. He had his little blonde groupie tucked under his arm, laughing at everything he said. Honey rolled his eyes. Of course the douchebag was one of the "popular" kids.

Honey kept skimming the crowd, spotting a few people he vaguely recognized from his first three classes. This school seemed to follow the same tired old trend of rigid cliques of the other small schools he had attended- jocks with jocks, theatre kids with theatre kids, burnouts with burnouts, etc. _Yawn._ He wondered if anyone had informed the student body that they weren't living in some angsty teen movie- they could make friends outside of their tiny social circles. 

He wasn't truly interested in anything he saw until he spotted the hot kid from Chemistry. Oddly enough, he was already looking in Honey's direction when Honey looked over, although he quickly turned away when he got caught. His tablemates didn't seem to have the same sense of shame however, all of them staring directly at him. Honey suppressed a shiver- it felt like he was being stared at by a school of sharks.Still, he lifted his chin, not looking away. If they were going to stare, he would stare right back. 

There were three others at the table besides Hot Dude- two girls and one boy. The first girl was tiny and doll-like, with wildly spiky black hair and delicate features. Her diminutive stature and playful aura reminded Honey of the tiny fairy figurines one of his old foster mothers used to collect, although this girl wasn't nearly as creepy. The second girl looked like she could have just stepped off a movie set from the golden age of Hollywood. Her perfectly curled hair was a shade of blonde that Honey didn't think existed outside of a bottle, but something told him it was natural. He bet there wasn't a straight boy or gay girl who wasn't at least half in love with her. Hell, Honey was gay, and even he thought she was absolutely stunning. The other boy was, without a doubt, one of the prettiest twinks that Honey had ever seen. His features were a strange blend of masculine handsomeness and feminine beauty that shouldn’t have worked, but somehow did anyway. His copper hair curled artfully around his face, reminding Honey of some tortured 19th century poet. Not exactly Honey's type, but he could definitely see the appeal. Despite their many glaring differences, they all had a strange similarity to them. All four of them were porcelain pale, golden eyed, and- most noticeably of all- unnaturally beautiful.

Honey managed to tear his eyes away from the strange group just as M.L sat down in front of him. They let out a sigh, gazing forlornly at their tray laden with unappealing cafeteria food. "God, it's like fighting through a mob just to get some cardboard pizza and soggy tater tots."

"It's a metaphor for life- maximum effort for minimum pay-off," Honey shrugged, earning a snort of laughter from his tablemate. Honey debated for a moment whether it would be rude to gossip about the group of potentials super models, then internally shrugged- fuck it, it wasn’t like they'd be able to hear him from so far away anyway.

"What's the deal with those weird pale kids over there?" Honey asked, pointing his chin in the direction of the staring teens.

"Honey, I don't know if you noticed, but half the kids in here fit that description- there isn’t that much racial diversity in Charlotte. You're going to have to be a bit more specific." They pointed out, which, fair. He rolled his eyes before gesturing again, this time not even bothering to be subtle about it. If they were still watching him that was their problem, not his.

“Them, the ones who are really hot in a kind of creepy way.”

M.L followed along where he'd gestured, seeming uninterested until their eyes actually landed one the group. For a split second, their face scrunched up distaste, before quickly going back to casual disinterest. "Oh, those are the Cullens, Emmett is the big one, Edward is the redhead, Rosalie is the blonde, and Alice is the little one. They transferred in at the end of last year. Why do you ask?"

Honey shrugged noncommittally, taking a bite out of his sandwich, chewing, and swallowing before answering (fuck you, he wasn't stalling, he was just hungry, that’s all). "No real reason, I guess. I sat next to the big one in first period, and he was staring at me when I came in. Trying to figure out whether I should be flattered, or worried that I'm about to be hate-crimed."

M.L snorted, their aquiline nose wrinkling charmingly. "I think you're safe. That's Emmett. He may be a giant, but he's of the big friendly variety. Well," they tilted their head a bit, seeming to reconsider their answer. "Friendly enough, anyway. The Cullens don't really talk to anyone outside of their family, but Emmett isn't an asshole."

Honey hummed in response, letting his eyes drift back over to the Cullens. They had all finally stopped staring at him, and now seemed to be locked in quiet conversation. Alice was practically vibrating with excitement, hands flying around as she spoke. Rosalie and Edward didn't seem as enthusiastic, looking annoyed from what Honey could see. Emmett looked just as happy as his small sister, grinning like an excited puppy. Honey couldn't help but think the expression looked adorable on him.

M.L snapped their fingers in front of his face, regaining his attention. “So, which one are you drooling over?”

“Wh- Drooling? Who’s drooling, not me, that’s for sure.”

M.L rolled their eyes. “If you’re gonna lie, at least be convincing, huh? You’ve obviously got the hots for one of them, so which one is it? I’ll warn you though, Blondie and Gingersnap are an item, so they’re both off the market.”

“Nah, not them,” Honey shook his head. Once he registered M.L’s words, he frowned. “Wait, they’re together? I thought you said…”

“Oh, right, yeah, they aren’t like _blood_ related,” M.L clarified, much to Honey’s relief. “Rosalie’s last name is Hale, she’s Mr. Cullen’s cousin or niece or something, I think. The three Cullen kids are adopted, too.” 

Okay, that was a little better. Still kind of weird, but not as weird as it could be. “So none of them are actually related? They all look so much alike.”

“They’re just white, I think. All white people look kinda similar,” M.L shrugged, which- okay, that was fair. "Don't think I don’t notice the way you’re dodging my question, by the way. I’ll let it slide this time, but only because it doesn’t really matter. The Cullens don’t really give anyone the time of day, so I wouldn’t bother if I were you."

Honey rolled his eyes, popping a handful of berries in his mouth. "Believe me, I don't have any hopes. Just because I think someone might be good jerk-off material doesn't mean I'm going to fall wildly, madly in love with them or anything. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's straight anyway."

“The best ones always are,” M.L sighed wistfully, before shooting Honey a grin. “You’ll probably have to wait until you get out of this town before you start dating. Pickings here are pretty slim.”

“Oh believe me, I’m definitely not looking right now.”

With that, their conversation moved on, oblivious to the sudden fit of laughter taking over the Cullen table.

_0000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

The rest of the day went by with minimal fuss. Math had been boring as hell, but his last two classes of the day were art and photography, so it balanced out. He noticed that both Cullen girls were in each of his afternoon classes- Alice in art,and Rosalie in photography.He hadn’t spoken to them, and he hadn’t approached them either, but he got the strangest feeling that they were just as aware of his presence as he was of theirs. It was more than a little unnerving.

As Honey climbed on board the bus after school, he decided that, all in all, it hadn't been a bad day. Sure, it could have gone better, what with the principal already deciding he was a teenage delinquent, but he'd managed to make a new maybe-friend and avoid any fights, so it definitely could have gone worse. He was especially optimistic about meeting M.L. In all his years of moving around, he'd never clicked with someone so easily. Sure, he'd had other friends and acquaintances, but they'd mostly just been people to hang around with and bum liquor off of, not people he'd truly liked, and definitely not people he had cared about leaving behind.

As if summoned by his thoughts, M.L slid onto the bench seat beside him, already slipping their bulky black bookbag onto their lap. They let their head thump back against the vinyl seat with a groan. "God, why did they have to give me sixth period Calc this semester? It always seems to drag on forever. I swear, Mrs. Sweeney is pushing 80, and the most boring woman on the planet."

"Why would you sign up for Calculus in the first place? That sounds like an exercise in torture any time of the day," Honey pointed out, crinkling his nose up. The bus rumbled to life around them, beginning to pull away from the school.

"True," M.L conceded with a little shrug. "It's not _that_ bad, though. The math itself is pretty easy for me, it's just the fucking teacher."

"Okay, Stephen Hawking," Honey teased lightly. "I absolutely hate math of all types. I'm taking Finance and Workplace this semester, and then never glancing at another equation ever again."

"It was my compromise with my parents- I take advanced courses this year, and next year they'll let me take all the artsy courses my gay little heart desires," M.L explained, sounding a tiny bit bitter. Honey wasn't sure how to properly respond to that- he’d never felt the need to compromise with a foster parent before, at least not when it came to what subjects he could take in school. His conversations on topics like that tended to run more in the vein of convincing him to even _go_ to school in the first place.He went with his trusty conversational tactic- changing the subject..

"I refuse to believe that any remotely interesting person could have possibly been born in this boring-ass town, so where are you from?" Honey turned his body a bit to face them as the bus bumped along the neglected pavement.

"You're right, I'm not from here, although I wouldn't call my hometown much more interesting. I'm from Coreysville, which is approximately 500 miles from anywhere worth being." M.L explained, shrugging one shoulder. "But my mom got a really good job offer here, so we moved when I was seven. I was stuck in a van with my four brothers for almost three days, it was hell on Earth."

Honey honestly found it hard to believe that there was even such a thing as a good job offer in a place like this, at least not one that would be worth moving such a far distance. He kept that thought to himself, though- no need to insult M.L's mother before he'd even met her.

As if sensing his train of thought drifting off, M.L redirected the conversation. "So, how about you? Where is the mysterious new kid from?"

"First of all, I'm anti-social, not mysterious. Mysterious implies that there's something interesting for people to uncover about me, and that's the complete opposite of the reputation I want to cultivate," Honey corrected, not entirely kidding. The last thing he needed was to attract a nosy asshole with nothing better to do but start poking around in his past. "To answer your question though, I'm technically from Toronto, but my parents moved us out of there when I was really young. Now I'm just from wherever."

"For someone who claims not to be mysterious, that was some pretty mysterious-ass shit you just said," M.L pointed out, gently nudging Honey's shoulder with their own and giving him a sly, teasing smile.

"You caught me," Honey joked. "I'm secretly an angsty teen vampire, shrouded in secrets and intrigue."

Something glinted in M.L's eyes for a brief moment, something hard and cold and unforgiving, gone so quick that Honey almost thought he'd imagined it. They covered it up with a light chuckle. "Oh darling, you’re far too cute to be a bloodsucker."

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

The rest of the ride went much the same, M.L and Honey chatting back and forth about nothing in particular, both of them just glad to find another GOC (gay of color) to talk to.They got off the bus at their shared stop, saying their goodbyes as M.L turned down a side street and Honey started up the little hill to his newest foster home.

Huffing and puffing a little as he reached the house (god, he really needed to get in shape), Honey clomped up the front steps, pausing for long enough to wipe his feet on the cheery welcome mat before walking into the house. 

"Honey, is that you?" Helena called from the kitchen. She sounded a bit harried, and Honey could hear the steady and repetitious _thunkthunkthunk_ of a knife rapidly hitting a cutting board.

"Yeah, I'm home," Feeling kind of rude yelling across the house, Honey set his backpack down by the foot of the stairs and padded down the hall, peeking into the kitchen. Helena was at the counter, chopping carrots. She was already surrounded by a veritable mountain of veggies, making Honey wonder which army she was planning on feeding.

"I hate to ask this of you, especially on your first day back to school, but would you mind giving me a hand? Laura, a lady I know from the farmer’s market, asked me to help her make some easy meals for a few of the seniors around town, and it completely slipped my mind until today. Wendall is already off clearing the grocery store of all their pie crusts, or else I'd ask him." Helena requested, looking genuinely regretful. How could anyone say no, especially with a cause like that.

"Yeah sure, no sweat," Honey agreed, already on his way to the sink. he turned the tap on, squirting some dish soap into his palm and lathering his hands up. "What do you need me to do?"

"Thank you, Honey. Do you mind taking over the vegetables while I start cooking up some meat? I'm making chicken pot pies and beef stew," She explained, already putting down her knife and going to the meat she had thawing on the counter.

Not bothering to reply beyond a hum of agreement, Honey turned off the tap, drying his hands on a faded whie and yellow checkered dish towel. He replaced Helena by the counter, picking up where she'd left off easily enough. He didn't have a lot of experience in the kitchen, definitely not enough to cook himself anything more complicated than hamburgers, but he was fairly confident he could handle chopping up vegetables.

They worked in companionable silence for about a half hour, Honey working through another bag and a half of carrots and almost a dozen potatoes before the front door opened, followed by the sound of heavy boots being kicked off and placed on the shoe rack. A deep, masculine voice called out, "Helly, they only had 12 crusts, is that going to be enough?"

"That'll have to do for now," Helena sighed, looking around at all the ingredients. "I can make a few homemade crusts, and then maybe after dinner we can make a run to Fairley, see what they've got there."

The man- Wendall, Honey presumed- came into the room, and Honey’s breath caught in the back of his throat. The man was massive, built like a brick shithouse and almost a foot taller than Honey's measly 5'6, with thick black hair that curled boyishly over his forehead and a salt-and-pepper beard. Heavy black eyebrows sat over deep set dark blue eyes. All in all, he was one of the most intimidating men that Honey had ever seen in his life.

Honey couldn’t help but think of the damage that even a smack from one of those meaty hands could cause. It wouldn't be the first time, but normally he had an out. Act up, cause enough trouble and stay out of their reach for long enough that getting rid of him was easier than beating him. That wasn't an option this time, though. He had to make this situation work, no matter what. He just had to pray that Wendall was a gentle giant.

"...Honey?" Helena called, snapping Honey from his somewhat spiraling thoughts. He looked over at his foster mother. Judging by the look on her face, that wasn't the first time she'd said his name.

"Sorry, I was distracted." Honey shook his head a little to clear it. "Could you repeat that, please?"

"I was just asking if you'd like to come to Fairley with Wendall and me after dinner?" She asked, not seeming annoyed at having to repeat herself. Honey shook his head almost immediately.

"No thanks. I have a lot of homework, and it's been kind of a long day..." He trailed off, hoping he didn't have to elaborate.

"That's fine, Honey," Wendall said, addressing him for the first time. He stepped forward, holding his hand out with- well, not quite a smile (Honey wasn't sure if smiling was even possible with such a naturally gruff face), but a pleasant-enough expression. "I'll take over helping Helly, if you want to head upstairs and get started on your homework."

Honey handed the knife over to Wendall, with a quiet "Thanks," before scurrying out of the kitchen, grabbing his backpack on his way up the stairs.

He went to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him before flopping down on the soft bed. It hit him then that he hadn’t been lying; he really was exhausted. Squirming around, Honey managed to kick off his socks and pants and wriggle out of his top, left in nothing but his black boxer briefs. He tugged the little plastic headband out of his hair, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. After that, his body went boneless, completely worn out. His dark brown eyes began to drift closed as he let out a jaw-cracking yawn. Just a quick nap, and then he'd start on his homework. Just a few moments...

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

"Honey! Dinner's ready, are you coming down?" A voice called from the other side of the door, startling Honey out of his rest. He groaned, rolling onto his side and peering over at the clock through gummy eyelids. 7:00. Fuck, that had definitely been longer than just a few minutes.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute," He answered around a huge yawn, grabbing his pants and wrestling back into them as he sat up. He had to hunt around for a few moments before he found his shirt amongst the crumpled sheets, shrugging it on and scratching idly at his pec as he stumbled into the ensuite bathroom to wash his hands.

Not wanting to keep Helena and Wendall waiting for too long, Honey finished quickly and left the comfort of his bedroom, sparing a wince for his untouched school bag. He hadn't been lying about having a lot of school work to do. It sort of came with the territory of transferring in mid-semester. He shrugged to himself as he closed his door behind himself and made his way toward the kitchen. He'd just have to stay up a little later than ideal and get it done after supper, no biggie.

When he entered the kitchen, Helena was at the counter, cutting up one of the meat pies. Wendall sat at the table, clearly waiting to be fed. Honey dithered in the doorway for a moment, unsure what he was supposed to do. Did he sit down and risk looking entitled? Or did he go to help Helena and risk being considered a pest? Why did figuring out new foster family dynamics have to be such a hassle? Thankfully, before Honey could stand there for too long, Helena came to his rescue.

"Sit down, Honey, I'll bring you and Wendall a slice," she directed, gesturing with her knife towards the large 8-person table. Honey nodded, taking the middle seat on the outward facing side of the table, not wanting to sit right next to Wendall, but not wanting to be a dick and sit as far as possible.

"So, Honey, huh?" Wendall started, voice deep and rough with a bit of twang, like something out of an old Western movie, putting Honey at ease a little. It was hard to be fully afraid of someone who sounded like a cowboy, after all. "That's a pretty unique name."

Aaaaand there went the modicum of comfort Honey had felt with the man. He couldn't stand when people questioned his name like it was a bad thing. He shrugged one shoulder, eyes tracing patterns in the grainy wood surface. "S'a family name, I liked it so it stuck."

"Don't mind Wendall, sweetie," Helena said, approaching the table and setting a slice of chicken pot pie in front of both men. "He's an awkward old man, that's just his way of trying to make conversation. Now eat up, you're too skinny."

Not needing to be told twice, Honey picked up his fork and dug in, knowing by now just how good Helana’s cooking was. At this point, he was wondering if there was anything the woman wasn't good at. Scolding puppies, maybe. His last foster mother hadn't been much for cooking, mainly preferring to order out or have something ready-made, so it was nice to eat a home-cooked meal. Honey could honestly say he'd seen enough of pizza delivery to last him the rest of his teens, at least, maybe even into his twenties.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, interrupted occasionally by Helena asking Wendall about his trip, or Wendall inquiring about Helena's progress on her newest artistic masterpiece. It wasn't until everyone was done eating that the mood shifted into something more serious. Helena turned to Honey, giving him a warm look. "So Honey, how was your first day of school? Did Rodney call you into his office? I told him not to, but that man never listens to anyone but himself."

"Rodney...?" Honey questioned, before clueing in. "Oh, you mean Principal Berger? Yeah, he spoke to me. It was pretty standard stuff- they'll be watching me, I better keep myself in line, no funny business, that sort of thing.”

Helena seemed to have expected that, nodding her head. " That sounds like Rodney, alright. Sometimes I think he's confused on whether he runs a high school or a military base. That does lead into what Wendall and I'd like to talk to you about, though."

Oh, here we go. Honey had known this was coming. It always did, sooner or later. Foster families took one look at his mile-thick file and either ran for the hills or started installing bars on the windows and locks on the fridge. He'd have thought they would learn by now that the more people tried to control him, the more he rebelled. But hey- some people just weren't that smart. He relaxed a bit in his seat, preparing to zone out as Wendall began to speak.

"We want to start by saying that, as of right now, we trust you." Yeah, that sounded about- Wait, what? They trusted him? What did that mean? Some of his disbelief must have showed on his face, because Wendall smiled ruefully and continued. "Whatever you've done in the past, whatever trouble has brought you to our doorstep, we don't care. Hell, I haven't even seen your file, and Helly only glanced at the relevant information. This is a clean slate for you, Honey."

Honey just sat there, blinking slightly. He couldn't quite wrap his head around a foster family who didn't care even a little about his checkered past. Even the best foster families had been a little wary of him at first. Finally, he managed to speak, although an intelligent response was still beyond him. "Oh. Uhm, okay."

"All we ask is that you don't break our trust in you," Helena chipped in, startling Honey a bit. He hadn't expected her to contribute much, honestly. "Curfew is 11pm on school nights, and 1am on weekends, unless you let us know you're going to be out later beforehand. We don't condone drugs or alcohol in the house, and ask that you don't partake outside the house as well, but if you do, please call us to pick you up- don't get in someone's car or try to walk home. We operate on a no-questions-asked policy- you won’t be punished for calling for help, so don’t hesitate. Please keep your phone turned on and with you when you go out, and give us a general idea of where you might be, just in case. Other than that, it's all just basic respect and common decency stuff. Do you have any questions, Honey?"

Honey shook his head, taking a few moments to digest that. Honestly, those were some of the most lax rules he’d ever had. He couldn't quite tell if he wanted to jump for joy or question their sanity. In the end, he settled for a small smile. "I understand. Those should be pretty simple to follow and remember."

Wendall nodded, standing up from the table, followed quickly by Helena. "Well, Helly and I are gonna start on these dishes. You might wanna head upstairs and get a start on homework for real this time."

Ducking his head, Honey nodded and stood as well, having the decency to scrape his plate into the garbage and rinse it before heading up to his room. He climbed the stairs in a bit of a daze. Once in the sanctuary of his room, he grabbed his backpack and dragged it over to his new desk, pulling out his depressingly large stack of homework. Even as he started on a basic trig worksheet, he couldn't stop dwelling on the strangeness of his little "family meeting" with his new foster parents. He'd been trying to ignore the feeling all day, but this had solidified the feeling he was getting.

Something told him that this family, this town, wasn't going to be like _anything_ he'd experienced before.


	3. Dead Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell me everything that happened  
> Tell me everything you saw  
> They had light inside their eyes  
> Did you see the closing window?  
> Did you hear the slamming door?  
> They moved forward, my heart died  
> Oh please tell me what they looked like  
> Did they seem afraid of you?  
> They were kids that I once knew  
> -Dead Hearts |(Stars)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains reference to child sexual abuse and pedophilia. I won't go into detail, and it isn't against a named character, but it happens. Proceed with caution, please take care of yourselves. If you'd like to skip it, stop reading at the second paragraph in the second scene, starting with 'When he was 11, he'd stayed in a foster home with a nice man...' and start reading at the beginning of paragraph five.

'Little bird...'  
The singsong voice echoed around me, causing me to stumble over nothing. Thin branches slapped against my skin and tangled in my hair, catching on my clothes. My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest and my lungs burned furiously. Still, I couldn't stop. Not after seeing what they'd done to Joanna, what they'd probably done to Aubrey, if her screams had been any indication.  
'Oh little biiiiiird~...'  
I stifled a sob as I tripped for real this time I scrambled along the muddy, leaf strewn forest floor for several heart-stopping moments before I managed to regain my footing. This wasn't fair. I didn't deserve this, we didn't deserve this! We were just trying to help, finding an injured, crying girl in the forest during our evening walk. We hadn't expected...  
'Come out, come out wherever you are...'  
I should have known. Something felt wrong even as we approached her. The girl had been... Strange. Something about the way she'd held herself, blood covered and writhing in pain, rang false. Like a scorpion calling for the help of a toad. Still, I'd let my better nature override my instincts and convinced Joanna and Aubrey that we should help her.  
'I can hear your heartbeat, little bird...'  
The moment she'd lifted her head, I'd known we had made a grave mistake. If her body language hadn't been enough, her face finally confirmed what my instincts had been screaming: this was a predator. Her skin was alabaster pale and smooth as marble, stretched over eerily perfect features. Her pouting cupid's bow mouth and quivering chin were covered in dark, dripping blood that I immediately knew wasn’t hers. And those eyes, oh, those eyes... By the time we'd turned to run, it already felt too late.  
'Enough playing with your food, Vivian.'  
A new voice sounded from above. I shrieked, arms pinwheeling almost comically as I tried to rear back and landed hard on my ass. A figure dropped down from the trees, falling into a crouch just a few feet from me. The thick shadows cast by the trees made it nearly impossible to make out any distinguishing features, besides the fact that person seemed tall. My attempts to scramble backward were halted when my back hit the solid barrier of a thick tree trunk.  
'Please, please...' I pressed against the rough bark. My whole body trembled, fingers digging into the soft mud. 'I won't say anything, please just let me go.'  
The figure scoffed, shaking their head. 'Really? Two of your friends were just brutally murdered, and you aren't going to say anything? And here I thought humans valued loyalty...'  
'You're no fun, Bunny,' The girl appeared from the trees, pouting childishly at the woman (for, despite her deep voice and shadowed figure, I was fairly certain that the other person was a woman). Fresh blood stained the front of her blue t-shirt, and I shuddered, trying (and failing) not to think of who's body it must have come from. 'Besides, she isn't food. I got a little carried away with the bigger one, so she's going to have to be our newest recruit.'  
'The Ringmaster isn't going to be happy about this,' The older woman pointed out, sounding annoyed. What were these people even talking about? Recruits, Ringmasters? If I hadn't been so busy shaking in terror, I'd be scratching my head in confusion. 'She's tiny, she won't even last a week, and that's if the bite doesn't kill her first."  
'My brother will get over it,' The girl rolled her eyes. Then, as if remembering I was there, she turned to me, bearing her crimson-dyed teeth at me in a terrible parody of a smile. 'You're stronger than you look, aren't you, little bird? Bunny's just mad because you're going to be her replacement. Now stay still, this won’t hurt a bit~"  
Before I could even think to move away, she was in front of me, grabbing me in an inhumanly strong grip and wrenching my head to the side. there were two simultaneous needle-sharp pricks in my neck, then pain like I'd never felt before was coursing through my veins. All I could do was open my mouth and scream, and scream, and scream...  
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Honey startled awake, the beginnings of a scream dying on his lips. His hand flew instinctively to his neck, looking for an injury that wasn't there, even as the last echoes of agony dissipated from his body. He groaned, resisting the overwhelming urge to punch his pillow. It had been years since he'd had a dream like that, one that felt so real. As if he was truly there, experiencing it himself. One that he knew in his heart had happened to somebody else. He used to think it was cool when he was younger, like peeking into another person's life, but then, well...  
When he was 11, he'd stayed in a home with a really nice foster dad named Isaac. He hadn't been very old, only in his mid-thirties, but he was already a widower. His wife died of ovarian cancer just a few years after they'd gotten married. Apparently she had really wanted children, but they hadn't had a chance to, so Isaac had decided to start fostering kids after her death. He was one of the only foster dads Honey had ever gotten close to, eventually even feeling comfortable enough to hug and cuddle with the man. Hell, there had even been talk of Isaac adopting him.  
There'd been an older girl named Rosie, probably 15 or 16, living there too. She was quiet, shy Honey had thought. She never really socialized with Honey, and she didn't seem to like Isaac. Honey had written her off as another moody teenager, definitely not the first he'd encountered in his years in the system. He had been content to think that, too, until he fell asleep one night, and he... Saw. Saw what Isaac did late at night when no one was awake, saw exactly why Rosie flinched every time Isaac ruffled her hair or patted her back, finally understood the strange, sympathetic looks she shot him every time Isaac touched him.  
He woke up with the taste of cigarettes and salty tears in his mouth, unable to stop himself from wretching into his bedside garbage can. When he'd gone to his social worker the next morning, telling her that his foster father had gotten a little too tactile with him, he hadn't even been lying. It may not have truly been his body, but he could still feel the man's filthy touch on him. It had helped his story that he could tell her about the star shaped birthmark on the inside of Isaac's thigh. The last he'd seen of Rosie, she was shaking on the porch of their foster home, waiting for her social worker to collect her after Isaac's arrest.  
Ever since then, Honey had dreaded the re-occurrence of another dream like that, sometimes staying awake for days at a time to avoid them. When he'd gotten older, he'd started self medicating a bit, drinking and getting high when the fear got too bad. And so far, he'd been pretty lucky. He had a few more dreams like that over the years, but they had all been relatively mundane. But this? This just made no sense. The dream was already getting fuzzy at the edges, but he the things he could recall were impossible. Teenage girls with super strength who killed people with their bare hands (or teeth, as it were)? It was crazy. Oddly enough, that wasn't Honey's biggest concern. No, what was really bugging him was the second woman. She felt familiar, something about her silhouette ringing a bell in the back of his mind, and he swore he'd heard that voice before. It was on the tip of his tongue, teasing the edges of his brain but dissipating like smoke when he tried to grasp for it. It was infuriating.  
Before he could spiral too far, his thoughts were cut off by the incessant beep of his alarm going off. He groaned, scrubbing at his face with both palms and rolling out of bed. Fuck, after a dream like that, he felt like he hadn't slept a wink. It was not shaping up to be a good day.  
It only took about ten minutes for him to get ready, taking a quick cold shower to wake himself up before getting dressed in the first clothes he found that vaguely matched. Now that his first day was over, he didn't give a damn about making an impression, good or otherwise. He gathered all his homework off his desk and stuffed it into his backpack, then stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen, eyeing the clock. Ten more minutes before he needed to leave to catch the bus. Wendall and Helena were already at the table, a third plate of waffles sitting at his seat.  
"Good morning," He greeted, not wasting any time as he slid into his seat and began eating. He felt like he'd been running through a forest all night, he was fucking starved.  
"Hey Honey, did you sleep alright? " Wendall asked, looking up from the sudoku puzzle he was solving between bites.  
Honey shrugged uncomfortably, shoving another bite in his mouth to stall for a few moments. When he swallowed, he gave a quick smile, although it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah, I slept fine. Could have used a bit more, though."  
Helena shook her head fondly. "Teenagers. I swear you'd all spend 20 hours a day sleeping if you could get away with it."  
"Come on now, Helly," Wendall reprimanded playfully, winking at Honey in a conspiratorial manner. "Honey's a growing boy, he needs his rest."  
Honey felt some of the tension bleed out of him, feeling more at ease as the dream slowly moved to the back of his mind. "Yeah, I need all the help I can get in the growing department- I'm pretty sure I've seen elementary school students who are taller than me."  
After that, Honey felt better, working through his breakfast and having just enough time to rinse his plate and put it in the dishwasher before he had to head out. He called a goodbye to his foster parents, hearing it echoed back to him before he headed out the door.  
As soon as Honey walked outside, he felt like something was off. The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably, and he had the strangest feeling of eyes on him. He looked around, scanning the nearby houses, but there was no one outside, and none of the curtains were out of place. His eyes were drawn to the woods, but no matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't make anything out through the thick shadows. He shivered, reminded of that night's disturbing dream. His shoulders hunched in a subconscious gestured of self-protection as he hurried down the porch steps.  
The feeling of being watched followed him all the way down the hill to his bus stop, and then faded as he approached M.L. The other teen was leaning against the post box, dressed in camo print cargo pants and a form fitting black turtleneck. They looked up, smiling at him. "Hey stranger. Good to see you didn't run off in the middle of the night. It'd be a shame to lose the first interesting person to show up here."  
"I thought about it," Honeymused, coming to a stop beside them. "Unfortunately, the last bus out of town had already left by the time I'd come to a decision."  
"Jokes on you- there aren't any busses that come through Charlotte," M.L pointed out with a grin.  
"Damn, that's a drag. Guess I'd just have to leg it," Honey leaned against the post box as well, crossing his arms over his chest to fight off the early morning chill. "So how was your night last night?"  
M.L rolled their eyes, groaning. "Ugh, the usual. My little cousins were over and absolutely would not stop screaming. My mother has the patience of a saint and even she was at the end of her rope. I swear, Tashi lets her kids get away with murder."  
"Oh, so you have family here?" Honey asked, tilting his head. "That's lucky, moving so far from your hometown."  
"Huh?" M.L gave him a confused look, before clueing. "Oh no, Tashi and her brats aren't really related to us, she's just a family friend. Half my extended 'family' is like that, you know how it is. Everyone's an aunt or uncle or whatever."  
Honey nodded vaguely, but in truth, he couldn't really relate. His parents hadn't been a factor in his life for a very long time, and if they'd had friends close enough to be considered family, they hadn't been around in Honey's life. Hell, Honey was pretty sure he didn't have any blood related aunts or uncles, either, and if he remembered correctly, his grandparents had died before he was even born. The only family Honey could truly remember having was his sister, and well... Well. These days, he was pretty much a family of one.  
A slightly awkward descended, broken only by the arrival of the bus. the pair climbed aboard together, Honey sliding into a bench near the middle of the bus and M.L sitting beside him. Angling their body toward him, they restarted the conversation. "So how was your night? Better than mine, I hope."  
"Yeah, it was fine," Honey said with a shrug. "I helped Helena with a good Samaritan project she was working on, and her husband came home so I got to meet him."  
"Helena Green?" M.L clarified, looking a bit surprised. "So like, are you a foster kid then?"  
Honey stiffened, posture defensive. Damn it. He wasn't trying to hide it, per se, but he didn't exactly advertise the fact that he was in foster care. It wasn't shame that kept his mouth shut, but rather self-preservation. Kids could be assholes, and there was no need to provide people with more ammunition when his general existence was usually more than enough to make him a target all on it’s own. Well, no use denying it now.  
"Yeah, I am," Honey tried to keep his tone neutral, but a hint of steel still shone through. "Does that matter to you?"  
"No, not really," M.L raised their hands in surrender. "I mean, not any more than it would to know if someone only had one parent, or if their parents were gay or whatever. I don't want to accidentally refer to your mom or dad and look like an idiot."  
Honey relaxed. He hadn't truly expected M.L to turn away from him over something so petty, but it's not like it would be the first time someone had failed to meet his expectations. "Yeah no, no parents. Or at least, none in my life. I think my father is still alive somewhere out there, but I try not to dwell on that unfortunate reality."  
"Fair enough," M.L shrugged. "My mom and my bio dad divorced when I was a toddler, and he's been out of the picture ever since. Good riddance, honestly. I don't remember much of him, but from what I hear from my older brothers, he wasn't exactly winning any father of the year awards. My step dad is pretty great, though."  
"Another member of the shitty biological father club. High five," Honey cheered, raising his hand. M.L rolled their eyes but obliged, smacking their palm against his.  
"It's not like that's exactly an exclusive club. It'd be easier to start a club for people for people with good fathers." They pointed out. Honey just shrugged, a silent 'fair enough.'  
The bus came to a stop outside the school and the pair slid into the aisle, staying quiet as they shuffled toward the front door. Once they climbed off, they made their way toward the front door, seeming to mutually agree that it was far too cold to stay outdoors, unlike the rest of the heathens crowding the lawn. As they passed the front office, Honey turned to M.L.  
"Okay, so I have to know- is Principal Berger always an insufferable prick, or does he just hate me specifically?" Honey asked, following his friend as they led the way to their locker.  
"Nah, he's always like that," M.L assured him. "He's only ever pleasant toward the athletes and kids with money. It also probably doesn't help that you're an outsider."  
"Outsider?" Honey scoffed with a shake of his head. "That sounds like something out of a bad supernatural YA novel."  
M.L shrugged, stopping in front of their locker and twisting their combination lock. "Yeah, this whole town is a little bit ridiculous. I swear, half the town is probably inbred, with how particular they are about right 'right’ and 'wrong' types."  
"Let me guess- if your family hasn't been here since the town was founded, you're the 'wrong' type?" Honey said, leaning against the adjacent locker as M.L gathered their things.  
"Pretty much, yeah," They nodded, slamming their locker shut and locking it again. "Being white and straight probably helps. So you and I probably aren't going to win any popularity contests. Sorry about that."  
Honey rolled his eyes. "The day I start to crave fitting in with these troglodytes is the day I blow my brains out."  
"That's the spirit! Death over conformity!" M.L raised a fist into the air, striking a powerful pose. Honey giggled and took M.L's hand, tugging them down the hall. Huh, he thought absently, they run really warm. He'd have to keep that in mind for future reference- maybe he could con them into handing over their coat if he ever forgot his.  
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Before long, M.L and Honey reached homeroom, settling down at their desk pod. The announcements cut off the conversation between them as they pretended to listen to avoid the dirty looks their homeroom teacher was sending their way. The group of girls in front of them had no such qualms, chatting back and forth in voices they obviously thought were quiet and conspiratorial. Honey was content to ignore them at first, until something caught his attention.  
"Did you hear about those girls up in Timberlea?" a tall blonde girl with overdrawn eyebrows whispered loudly, leaning in closer to her friends.  
"Yeah, it’s awful. I'm pretty sure that Aubrey girl is Suzanna Wynott's cousin," another girl piped up, braces flashing as she chewed on her lip. "It's so sad, right? Apparently they were just out for a walk and got attacked by something."  
"My mom said it was probably devil worshippers that killed them," The smallest girl, a little redhead, said. He thin fingers fiddled with the cross pendant hanging from her neck.  
The tall blonde rolled her eyes. "Your mother blames everything on devil worshippers. It was probably just a bear or something."  
"A bear that drains blood?" the religious girl shook her head. "Doesn't seem likely. Mama's so upset she's talking about moving us away."  
"That's crazy. It happened like six hours away from here, we’ll be fine. I just hope that Robin girl is okay- they didn't find her body."  
Honey felt his heart stutter in his chest, tuning out the rest of what the girls had to say. Drained of blood? There was no way. His dream couldn't have been real, not this one. It made absolutely zero sense. But all the evidence said it was real. This was fucking crazy. He had to check this out for himself, see if i was real or just a fluke. Surreptitiously, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, typing 'Timberlea girls found dead' into the search bar.  
Immediately he found what he was looking for. The first result was a link to an article from just a few hours before. His stomach sank further and further as her read, worst fear confirmed. Two girls, Aubrey Johnson and Joanna Ducard, were found dead, mauled by an unknown animal. The third girl, their friend Robin Hills, was missing- presumed dead. There were photos of each girl in the article, showing them happy and healthy and alive, but Honey couldn't block out the flashes of Joanna's terrified face or Aubrey's horrible screams from his dream the night before.  
"Honey? Are you okay?" M.L whispered, shocking him back to reality. He blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump that threatened to form in his throat.  
"Yeah, I'm fine, perfect really, why do you ask?" Honey tried for calm and collected, but in came out more frazzled and frantic.  
"Well, you've been staring into space for the past five minutes with a shell shocked look on your face. You're kind of worrying me." M.L bit their lip, eyes flicking down to his phone screen, which was still open on that damned article. "Whatever beast killed those girls, I'm sure it'll be put down soon."  
Honey nodded vaguely, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He wanted to believe that, really, he did. But he couldn't stop seeing that strange, monstrous girl in his mind, remembering how fast and strong she'd been. He couldn't imagine that there was anything big or bad enough to take something like that down.  
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Honey slunk into his first period class a few minutes early, breathing a small internal sigh of relief when Mr. Guiness let him pass by his desk without comment. Apparently the man had gotten his fill of humiliating the new kid for one semester. Looking around, he noticed there were only a handful of students already in the classroom, including his (incredibly hot) seatmate, Emmett. The hulking boy was staring at him, not even making an effort to hide it. His expression didn't seem judging, however. It looked excited, appreciative, strangely intense. Honey didn't know whether to be flattered or unnerved. A mix of both, probably.  
It wasn't until someone not-so-subtly cleared their throat behind him that Honey realized he was standing in the doorway like some sort of idiot. Face hot, he hurried to his desk, letting his heavy binders and textbooks land on the table before turning to look at Emmett, who still hadn't stopped staring at him. Yeah, at this point he was definitely tipping toward the unnerved side of the scale.  
"You know, only stalkers and serial killers stare like that," Honey said, raising one eyebrow. He wasn't going to let it go without a comment, no matter how hot the guy was.  
Emmett grinned, showing off a row of straight white teeth. Honey tried not to get distracted by the endearing boyish dimple that formed on his left cheek. He was only partially successful. "Sorry, didn't mean to creep you out. I was just wondering when angels started taking chemistry classes, that's all."  
Honey couldn't help the laugh that spilled from his mouth, caught off guard by the open and shamelessly cheesy flirting. "Has that line ever worked for you?"  
"That was my first time trying it out," Emmett admitted with a sheepish grin.  
"Mm, I can see that. No need for pick up lines with a face like that, huh?"  
"Something like that," He answered vaguely, looking unbearably amused about something. "You should let me take you out sometime, help me brush up on my flirting skills."  
Honey tilted his head in mock contemplation. "Huh, that was a little smoother. I'd give you a C minus. A little more work, and I'll consider taking you up on that offer."  
He probably shouldn't have encouraged it, especially with his commitment to keeping a low profile, but he couldn't help himself. He was flirty by nature, and being hit on by someone so obviously out of his league was doing great things for his ego. It wouldn't get any more serious than harmless flirting. He'd take what little entertainment he could get.  
The bell rung, effectively ending their conversation. Mr. Guiness launched into a continuation of yesterday's lecture. Honey did his best to copy everything down, despite the fact that he understood about 20% of what was coming out of the man's mouth. If he was being honest, even that was probably a generous estimate. Honey wished he could go back in time and strangle his younger self for skipping class so often. He spent the entire time forcing his mind not to wander off and his eyes not to glaze over. Thankfully, the lecture wrapped up within twenty minutes, leaving the rest of class time for tackling the practice questions from the textbook. Honey opened up his textbook, figuring he may as well look like he was making an effort, but was quickly distracted by Emmett once again.  
"So, you said you're from Kingston? What brought your family out this way? Not to be rude, but this town doesn't really attract new people."  
Honey raised an eyebrow at him, turning his attention to the other boy. "I could say the same about you. You and your family only transferred in a few months earlier than me, from what I've heard."  
"Been asking around about me? And here I thought you were completely resistant to my charms." Emmett flashed a grin, showing off those adorable dimples again. Honey refused to back down out of embarrassment, however.  
"Who said I was charmed?" He asked challengingly. " I was just curious about the weird guy who hasn't stopped staring at me. Also, don't think I missed you completely avoiding that question."  
"The weather."  
Honey furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"  
"The weather is what attracted us here, of course," Emmett reiterated. Honey snorted, shaking his head.  
"Of course, I don't know how I could have missed that. who doesn't want to live in a cold, rainy failed tourist trap town. Silly me." Honey picked up his pencil, about to go back to his work, but Emmett reached out and snagged his fingers in Honey's sleeve.  
"I was just kidding around, don't be like that. Our dad got a good job at the county hospital, so here we are." His expression was sincere and apologetic, making it impossible for Honey to hold onto his annoyance. Still, he gently extricated his sleeve from Emmett's grip, twirling the pencil between his slim fingers.  
"So your dad is a doctor?" Honey asked, doodling on his sheet of loose leaf to give Mr. Guinness the impression that he was at least attempting to work. He vaguely remembered M.L referring to the Cullen patriarch as such.  
Emmett nodded, picking up his pencil and beginning to write quickly, hand nearly flying across his paper. It looked like he was actually answering the questions, although Honey had no clue whether the answers were actually correct. He doubted it, however; Emmett had barely even glanced at his textbook. "Yeah, he's a surgeon for the most part, but the hospital is so understaffed that he ends up having to do other stuff too."  
Honey nodded, vaguely interested. He had entertained fantasies of being a doctor for a while, before eventually confronting the reality of how expensive and time consuming that particular career path was. Besides, he had never been much for blood. Not quite ready for the conversation to end, Honey fished around for a new topic.  
"So, is there anything to do out here? It seems so quiet, I think I'll go crazy from boredom," Honey said, propping his hand on his chin as he started to draw small flowers along the borders of his paper.  
"I wouldn't really know, my family and I tend to stick to ourselves. But there's plenty of outdoorsy activities, if you're into that." Emmett laughed when he saw Honey scrunch up his nose in distaste. "Come on, don't be such a city boy. There's nothing wrong with getting a little mud on your boots."  
"It's not the mud I’m worried about. Excuse me if getting lost in the woods and potentially getting mauled by a bear isn't exactly my idea of a good time." Honey defended himself, although his expression was amused rather than annoyed.  
"There aren't any bears out this way," Emmett refuted, although his expression looked regretful for a moment, as if a lack of dangerous predators was something to be disappointed over. So weird.  
That reminded Honey of his earlier distress, however. "Yeah? Then what do you think killed those girls a few towns over? It sure as hell wasn't a deer."  
Emmett's expression flickered briefly before going blank, not giving Honey enough time to identify the emotion on his face. "Uh, probably coyotes or something. They're pretty common around here."  
"See? That's even worse than bears!" Honey pointed out, deciding to let the topic of the girls go for now. He knew that whatever tore them apart wasn't a mere animal, but he could sense that the topic made Emmett uncomfortable. Maybe he'd known them somehow? Unlikely, but not impossible. "I'm fine with sticking to civilization, thanks."  
"You could always go on a hike with me, I'd keep you safe from any big bad predators." His face split into flirty and cocky grin that Honey found strangely endearing. He pulled out another sheet of loose leaf, nudging the first one out of the way until it was mostly sitting on Honey's desk. He wasn't particularly bothered by that, so he decided to let it stay.  
"Oh, I don't doubt that," Honey assured him, letting his eyes flicker over the boy's form in playful appreciation. It wasn't a lie, anyway. Emmett was nearly a foot taller and twice as wide as him, he was sure the boy would have no trouble fending off a pack of coyotes, if it came to that. "Still, I'd hate to risk your pretty face. It's all you've got going for you."  
"You wound me," Emmett said, placing a hand over his heart dramatically and throwing his head back. Honey took a moment to appreciate the way his shirt pulled across his chest, outlining the sculpted muscles of his torso. "How will I ever recover?"  
"I'm sure you'll find a way to carry on," Honey rolled his eyes, although he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud. He couldn't help it; the boy was charming.  
Before Emmett could come up with a response, a shadow fell over their desks, Honey looked up, stomach going cold and hard when he saw Mr. Guinness standing over them.  
"How are you coming along?" The man asked, giving them both a gently chiding expression. Clearly they hadn't been as discreet as Honey hoped. Looking around briefly, he was relieved that none of the students seemed to be paying them any mind. Honey opened his mouth to make an excuse, keenly aware of his answer-less paper, but Emmett beat him to it.  
"We're doing great, sir," He answered, flashing Mr. Guinness a perfectly polite and respectful smile. "Honey is done, and I'll be finished in a moment too."  
Confused, Honey looked down. Sure enough, the sheet that Emmett had nudged toward him had the name 'Honey Hart' scrawled across the top in a passable approximation of his handwriting. He quickly wiped any signs of surprise off his face, looking up at the teacher and giving a quick nod of confirmation.  
"Sorry if we were being disruptive, we'll try to keep it down," Honey said, trying to imitate Emmett's innocent expression. He doubted it was quite as believable, but Mr. Guinness seemed to buy it. The man gave a quick nod before moving on.  
As soon as Mr. Guinness was occupied with another student across the classroom, Honey turned to Emmett with raised eyebrows. "How did you do that?"  
"Do what?" Emmett asked with another expression of innocence that wasn't nearly as believable as the last.  
'Don't bullshit me," Honey shoved at Emmett's shoulder, unsurprised when the boy didn't so much as sway. "Although I guess the better question would be why did you do that?"  
Emmett shrugged, finishing up the last of the work on his paper before setting his pencil down. "I noticed you were struggling yesterday, and figured it wasn't fair for the teachers to throw you headfirst into the topic without any prior knowledge. So this is me buying you time to catch up with the class."  
Honey narrowed his eyes in suspicion. As fun as flirting with Emmett was, this was a bit too much for him. He didn't trust the boy's motives, too used to people using underhanded tactics to get at him. No one did anything out of the kindness of their heart, so clearly he was angling for something. Whether is was to humiliate him, get into his pants, or some combination of the two, Honey had no clue.  
"Try that again, with less bullshit this time," Honey's voice was steely, all hints of his early playfulness completely dried up. Emmett raises his hands in surrender.  
"I'm not bullshitting you. Admittedly, there is a selfish element to it. I like talking to you, and it's not like this stuff is hard for me."  
Honey paused, raising an eyebrow. "So you're telling me that you copied out your work for me so we could chat?"  
Emmett nodded, expression so sincere that Honey couldn't bring himself to hold onto his suspicion. It was probably stupid, but Honey decided to take him at his word, just this once. Hopefully it wouldn't end up blowing up in his face, although that outcome would hardly be surprising. Turning to face him more fully, he restarted the conversation.  
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On the walk from Chemistry to English, Honey had to work to hold back a dopey grin. It was silly, but he couldn't deny that he had enjoyed chatting with Emmett. He was actually surprised by just how much fun he'd had. Don't get it wrong, he definitely found Emmett attractive and charming, he wasn't the type of guy Honey would normally pursue. He usually went for artsy guys or burn outs, boys who weren't so well built or outgoing. Admittedly, that was because those were the sort of people he hung around most of the time, and who tended to show interest in him. Attractive, athletic-type boys didn't tend to play for the 'home' team, and when they did, well… Honey didn't really trust their motivations to be anything other than getting bragging rights to fooling around with a 'boy like him'.  
The thought sobered him a little. While Honey didn't think Emmett was angling for something along those lines, he still felt that he should proceed with caution, and not let things go any farther than a bit of harmless flirting. He didn't need the hassle or heartache of getting close to someone in that way right now, not when he didn't plan on sticking around for any great length of time. After he walked across the stage at graduation, he planned to keep right on walking until he crossed county lines.  
Firmly putting the topic to rest in his mind, Honey spend the next two periods doing his best to catch up to his peers. He found that it wasn't that hard, at least with the subjects at hand. In English they were currently reading a pretentious 'classic' written by a dead white guy who's name Honey couldn't be bothered to remember. Although he found the topic mind-numbingly boring, it wasn't hard to follow along. The book was thin, so he would hopefully manage to work his way through it quickly. While psychology was a bit more of a challenge, the notes that M.L had lent him made it much easier to catch up. By the time lunch rolled around again, he could feel the edges of a headache starting to build behind his eyes. But hey, at least he was making headway. It could have been worse, all things considered.  
He and M.L made their way to their lockers together, going to M.L's first, and than Honey's, chatting casually all the way. M.L spent most of the time complaining about their second period teacher assigning a massive paper. Honey sympathized strongly. He hadn't actually written his own essays since middle school, and he had a feeling that it was going to be an exercise in torture now that he actually had to do his own major assignments. Oh well, that was the consequence of trying to walk the straight and narrow.  
As they reached the cafeteria and sat down at one of the mostly empty tables, his eyes automatically searched for Emmett. Honey frowned to himself when he noticed that both the tall boy and the rest of his strange clan of pale pseudo-models were absent. M.L noticed him looking and rolled their eyes goodnaturedly.  
"Still holding out hope for that one, huh?" M.L asked, tone lightly teasing. They had brought lunch from home today, a bag of chips and leftover stir fry. "Don't trust my word that they're a bunch of recluses?"  
Honey shook his head, turning his eyes back to his new friend and working on opening his lunch box. Helena had packed him a slice of leftover pot pie, cut up fruit and veggies, and a bottle of juice. He should probably be embarrassed that his foster mother was packing his lunches for him, but he couldn't bring himself to be anything but grateful. It wasn't like he was going to pack it himself, and it beat cafeteria food, or going hungry.  
"I'm not holding out for anyone," He protested, picking up his fork and stabbing a piece of strawberry before popping it into his mouth. "I talked to him this morning, plus he was staring at me all lunch yesterday. Just trying to make sure I don't have a stalker, y'know?"  
"He talked to you? Really?" M.L asked, frowning. "What did he talk to you about?"  
Honey shrugged, taking a long moment to chew his food before he gave an answer. "Nothing major. We talked about his family a little, he tried to convince me that outdoorsy activities are worthwhile, a mild amount of flirting. You know, normal shit."  
He decided to leave out the part where Emmett let basically him cheat off his work. While he doubted that M.L was the type to snitch, he didn't want to risk being wrong and end up in shit before his second day was even out. Besides, it wasn't that big of a deal. The assignment hadn't even been for points.  
M.L's amber eyes went wide, expression looking both concerned and vaguely disturbed. Their fingers tightened around their fork. "Flirting? Seriously? It's even worse than I thought."  
"Okay, what's the deal? You seem to really hate the Cullens and I'm starting to wonder why," Honey asked. At first he had figured it was just general dislike of anyone rich and attractive, which was something he got. He wouldn't pretend he had never reached that level of petty. Now though, it didn't seem that simple. There was too much seriousness in M.L's eyes. "Did one of them like, spit in your lunch or something?"  
"My family isn't a big fan of them, and vice versa." M.L explained, and yeah, there was definitely something personal going on here, if the slight tick in M.L's jaw was anything to go on.  
"Seriously? Didn't the Cullens just move here recently? What kind of family feud could you have possibly gotten into that quickly?" Honey demanded incredulously. Part of him felt frustrated at the situation, but mostly he was just confused and desperately curious. While he didn't have any interest in drama of his own, other people's drama was always fun. Maybe there was some juicy gossip to be learned here.  
Their proud nose scrunched up, as if smelling something unpleasant. "Doesn't take long to make a bad impression."  
Honey let out a sigh, slender brown fingers carding through his short black curls. "Listen, if it really means that much to you, I won't talk to Emmett anymore. I don't want to make you uncomfortable by hanging around someone you clearly don't like."  
M.L was silent for several long moments, seeming to consider his words. For a second, Honey was sure they were going to accept his offer. Which, while not ideal, wouldn't be the end of the world. Sure, Emmett was ridiculously hot, and he did feel weirdly drawn to the other boy, but 'bros before hoes,' or whatever.  
"No, I'm not going to make you choose between the two of us, you're allowed to have friends outside of me," M.L said after a while, shaking their head and causing a bit of hair to fall into their eyes, which they quickly tucked behind their ear. "Just be careful, okay? The Cullens aren't what they appear to be. They're dangerous."  
"Trust me, I'm not planning on getting overly involved," Honey promised, starting on his pie. "I need the next few years to be as uncomplicated as possible. Can't afford the drama that a relationship would bring."  
M.L nodded, looking slightly appeased by that. "Fair enough, I guess. On a completely different note, do you want to hang out this weekend so I can help catch you up in your classes a bit more?"  
Honey groaned, letting his head fall back dramatically. "School work on the weekend? That has to be some sort of crime."  
"I hate to tell you this, but most people do school work on the weekends," M.L informed him, a small amused smirk sliding across their lips. "I promise I'll provide snacks and give you lots of breaks, since apparently you're a small child."  
"Good. I respond well to juice boxes and fruit gummies." Honey said, finishing his lunch and putting his containers back in his lunch bag.  
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The last three periods flew by, with Honey absently noting that neither Alice nor Rosalie were present in the classes he shared with them. Maybe there was an emergency at home? Who knew. It wasn't really his business, but he couldn't help but wonder. The thought stayed in his mind all afternoon, even as he rode the bus home, sharing funny stories with M.L about some of the schools he'd been to. I was ridiculous, and probably way off base, but Honey couldn't get rid of the tiny voice in the back of his head that kept telling him that it had something to do with him. It made no rational sense that all the Cullen siblings would magically be absent from class just because he'd had a chat with one of them. Try telling that to his dumb brain, though.  
By the time he made it up onto the Greene's front porch, he was already in a shitty mood, both from the annoying thoughts swirling around in his head, and from the steady rain that had started up while he was in school, soaking him to the bone on his walk home. God, he wished he knew how to drive and had the money for a car. Having to wait around for the school bus in this weather had been absolute torture. As he reached the front door, he saw a little envelope stuck to it, his name written across it in neat, looping cursive. He pulled the envelope down curiously, and felt it had a little weight to it. Not much, but obviously not just paper. Only one way to find out what was inside, though. He opened the flap, finding a small note and a key attached to a bumblebee keychain inside. He found himself smiling slightly as he pulled the two items out, reading the short message.  
'Honey, if this note is still here, I obviously lost track of time while shopping in the city. I realized today that I completely forgot to give you a house key. This is yours for as long as you live here. -Helena'  
Wow. Honey could count on one hand the amount of times a foster family had trusted him with his own personal key to the house, and still have fingers to spare. There had been many times over the years when he had found himself locked out because his foster parents weren't home. He usually either found a way in through an unlocked window or found somewhere else to be until they came home. On one memorable occasion when he was 13, he had ended locked out of the house for days when his foster parents had decided to take a week long trip without telling him. After day three of sleeping on the back deck, stealing food from Wal-Mart, and cleaning himself with a garden hose, he had eventually gotten fed up and broken in by shattering the sliding glass door with a rock. Of course, that had set off an alarm, and the police had shown up. A black kid breaking into some upper-middle class white couple's home while they were away hadn't exactly been a good look. Needless to say, it wasn't long after they returned from their vacation that the couple sent Honey packing. Not that he had complained, of course.  
Shaking himself from his quick walk down memory lane, Honey stuffed the note in his jacket pocket and unlocked the front door. He kicked his shoes off and put them on the rack before closing and locking the door behind himself. The neighborhood might have been quiet and calm, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was safe, and Honey wasn't taking his chances. He went up to his room, closing and locking his own door. A nice steaming hot shower was just what he needed to warm himself up after the chill of the outdoors.  
Stripping out of his wet clothes along the way, Honey padded into the bathroom, curling his toes against the cool tile as he threw his discarded clothes in his laundry hamper. He cranked the shower as hot as he could stand without feeling like he was getting stabbed by a bunch of tiny pins. Laying out a nice fluffy towel on his toilet seat, Honey stepped into the shower stall. The water felt amazing. He didn't think he'd ever get over just how good the water pressure was here. Immediately, he could feel the chill and stiffness seep out of him, leaving him feeling loose and warm. Honey didn't bother deep-cleaning himself, just giving his body a cursory rinse since he'd showered that morning as well. Once he felt he'd wasted enough time and hot water, Honey turned the water off, wiping away the water that dripped from his hair into his eyes.  
Water slid down his firm calves and onto the soft yellow bath mat as he stepped out of the shower. He roughly toweled himself dry, tying the towel around his waist once he was done and going back into his bedroom. Without bothering to glance at his school work, Honey headed straight to his bed. He dropped the towel and climbed between the sheets, determined to stay nice and warm at any cost. Responsibilities could wait- it was nap time now.  
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When Honey glanced out the window during breakfast the next morning, he was disgusted to find that the rain from the night before had frozen overnight. The world looked like it was made of glass, the ground treacherous and icy. For a few moments he contemplated saying fuck it and going back to bed, but he doubted that his foster parents would be very supportive of that decision. he would have to suck it up and deal with it.  
After he rinsed his plate, Helena handed him his lunch, frowning out the window. “I’m going to drive you into school today, I don’t want you walking to the bus stop with the ground like that.”  
“It’s fine, I don’t mind taking the bus,” Honey tried to protest. He didn’t want to inconvenience her, or give her something to potentially hang over his head.  
“Well, I mind. You’ll slip and break your neck if I send you down to the bus,” Helena said, tone allowing for zero argument. “Besides, I can bring Georgia back her dishes from the last community center potluck while I’m there.”  
Deciding that there was little use in trying to talk the woman out of her decision now that her mind was made up, Honey shrugged. “Okay. Uhm, thank you.”  
“No need to thank me,” Helena waved him off, crouching down in front of the lower cupboards, seemingly hunting for something. “Wendall already salted the walkway before he left this morning, would you mind going out and starting the car for me? The keys are hanging up by the door.”  
Honey let out a hum of agreement, exiting the kitchen. He slipped his sneakers on by the front door, frowning at the lack of tread. He would need to get new winter boots soon, if this kind of weather was par for the course in this shitty little town. He shrugged on his coat and flung his school bag over his shoulder. He grabbed the car keys off of their hook beside the front door, opening the door and braving the chilly outdoors. A blast of frigid wind seemed to cut straight through his thin jacket, causing him to shudder violently. As quickly as possible without slipping and cracking his head open, Honey scurried off the porch and over to the car. He felt the same prickling sensation of being watched that he had the morning before, but he brushed it off, focusing on not dying. Once he had unlocked the car, he cracked open the drivers side door for long enough to start the car, grab the ice scraper from the back seat and deposit his backpack before closing the door. He set about removing the ice from all the windows and mirrors, cursing his lack of gloves as he did so. There, now he and Helena were even, he didn’t owe her anything for the drive to school.  
Helena came out just as Honey was finishing up the final window, a cloth bag hanging from her elbow and two travel mugs in her hands. She looked surprised, but smiled nonetheless. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you very much, sweetheart.”  
“No problem, I was out here doing nothing anyway,” Honey said, shrugging. Helena made her way down the porch steps and over to the car, handing over one of the travel mugs. Honey was grateful for the subtle warmth that the mug provided.  
Helena seemed to notice his lack of gloves just then, and shook her head. “I didn’t even think to grab you any winter gear from the bin, I’m sorry. There’s a pair of gloves in the dash though, you can wear them for today.”  
“Thanks,” Honey said, making his way around the car and getting in the passenger seat. He slid the travel mug into the cup holder, put on his seatbelt, and opened up the glove box. Sure enough, there was a pair of nondescript black gloves sitting there, which he gratefully pulled over his stiff and chilly hands.  
Helena opened the driver’s side door, climbing inside. After a moment of getting herself situated, she put the car in reverse and carefully backing out of the driveway before heading down the street. Honey shifted, trying to get comfortable. Honestly, he had always felt kind of awkward riding in peoples’ cars, like there was some secret passenger etiquette that no one had ever bothered letting him in on. He felt like that about a lot of things, now that he thought about it- a lot more than he was comfortable admitting out loud.  
He lifted his mug out of the cup holder, taking a tentative sip. It was surprisingly good, the taste of chocolate and cinnamon spreading over his tongue. “This is delicious, Helena, thanks.”  
“Thanks, but it’s nothing groundbreaking,” Helena said, waving him off with a little smile. “It’s just hot chocolate mix, a splash of hazelnut coffee, and cinnamon. I used to work at a little sandwich shop when I was in school, so I did a lot of experimenting during lulls.”  
“Well, I’d chalk this one up as a success,” Honey murmured, prompting a small laugh from Helena.  
After that, the pair lapsed into silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, really. They simply didn’t have anything more to say to each other. Honey appreciated that his foster mother didn’t try to push for more conversation. He still felt a bit off-kilter from his unremembered dream the night before, and he wasn’t really up to the task of carrying on small talk right now. Instead, he gazed out the window, finding himself endlessly relieved that he hadn’t had to brave to treacherous ice all the way to the bus stop. He wasn’t quite ready to die today, thank you. When they passed the bus stop, it was empty. M.L’s parents must have had the same thought process as Helena, thank god.  
The ride was a quick one, despite the need for a reduced pace. Instead of dropping him off at the door, Helena pulled into the parking lot, near the back. Once they were stopped, she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ve got to run in to drop off those dishes.”  
Honey paused. As much as he sort of liked his new foster mom, he didn’t really want to walk into school with her. His already low social status couldn’t take that kind of critical hit right now. He waited until Helena had gathered her bag and climbed out before unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out on his side. Whether picking up on his reluctance or just in a hurry, Helena didn’t linger to wait for him.  
“I’ll see you after school, have a good day, sweetheart.”  
“Yeah, you too,” Honey returned, opening the back door to grab his bag out. As he did so, he heard the thunderous roar of an engine, the kind designed to grab someone’s attention as obnoxiously as possible. He glanced up, and found himself looking at a huge white Jeep tearing through the parking lot. A very familiar Jeep…  
It took a few seconds, but when it clicked, Honey remembered just where he had seen that Jeep before- speeding past as it drenched him in filthy puddle water. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the vehicle to come to a stop. He was definitely going to give the driver a piece of his mind. What kind of asshole drove so recklessly? Even now, they couldn’t possibly doing the speed limit. He watched as the Jeep pulled into a spot at the opposite end of the row. The driver’s side door was flung open, a large, hulking form jumping with surprising grace to the icy blacktop below without the slightest consideration for the slippery ice. Honey felt a flutter in his stomach as he caught sight of Emmett Cullen’s infuriatingly handsome boyish grin.  
Fuck his life. Of course the asshole who had made him walk home in soggy shoes on his first day in Charlotte was the same asshole who made him absolutely certain of his status as a total homo. Still, Honey squared his shoulders. Greek god in human form or not, Honey was still on a mission to tear him a new one.  
“Hey, Cullen!” He shouted, beginning to walk at a slow but determined pace. Emmett glanced up at the sound of his voice. At first he looked happy, and then confused. Then, when his gaze flickered over Honey’s shoulder, his expression morphed into one of horror.  
They say that in moments of extreme, life threatening danger, everything seems to happen in slow motion. Honey could say from experience that this was complete and utter bullshit. When you were in danger, everything moved so much quicker, information processed all at once. For example, in that moment, Honey was aware of several things; Firstly, Emmett was on the other side of the parking lot, a good 15 or 20 cars away from Honey’s position; secondly, a boxy blue van had lost control, slipping on black ice and careening at a high speed toward Honey; Thirdly and finally, Honey had absolutely no chance of getting out of the way before the van turned him into a grease smear. He dropped to the ground, making himself small and covering his head in what he knew would be a futile protection effort as the van bore down on him.  
There was the panicked honking of a horn, the squeal of tires. Something hard collided with his back and knocking him to the ground. He struck his head, not hard enough to be overly concerned, but enough for a pounding headache to form immediately. Finally, there was an ear splitting crash. Honey felt the pelt of glass raining down on him, but thankfully his skin was protected by his layers of clothing. He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the agony to hit… But it never did. After a moment of hesitation, his eyes opened, confusion echoing through his aching skull.  
Emmett Cullen kneeled above him, back hunched over to shield Honey’s body. To his shock and disbelief, Honey saw that the van was on Emmett’s back, the larger boy seeming to easily bear over two tonnes of metal and machinery on his back. His expression showed no strain, only concern for the boy beneath him  
“H-how are you…” Honey stuttered, eyes wide and searching as they flicked between Emmett and the van. Seeming to notice Honey’s distress, Emmett hastily rolled his shoulders back, shrugging the van off like it was nothing. The vehicle teetered for a moment before all four wheels reconnected with the pavement with a loud groan and pop.  
“Shit, shit…” Emmett cursed, before suddenly reaching out and cupping Honey’s face in two strong, ice cold hands. A bit hysterically, Honey noticed that Emmett’s hands comically dwarfed his face, almost covering it completely. “You can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”  
“You’re hurting me,” Honey murmured, trying to squirm away from Emmett’s unintentionally rough grip.  
Emmett snatched his hands away from his face, looking as if he had been burned. His expression was one of horror and panic. “Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, don’t tell anyone. I’m sorry.”  
Before Honey could even begin to formulate a response, Emmett quickly maneuvered his way past him. He tried to watch him leave, but the other boy was already gone by the time he managed to turn his head in his direction. His cheeks throbbed dully where Emmett had gripped them, adding to the already splitting pain in his head.  
It was around then that he began to process the screaming.


	4. Somebody Get me a Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You better call me a doctor  
> Feelin' no pain  
> Overloaded, down the drain  
> Somebody get me a doctor  
> You better call up the ambulance, I'm deep in shock  
> Overloaded, baby, I can hardly walk

“I’m fine, really,” Honey repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. He barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes, knowing it wouldn’t help the dull pounding in his skull.

“We understand that, Mr. Hart. However, we have to wait until the doctor gets here to check you out before we can give you a clean bill of health.” The nurse seemed just as exasperated as Honey was, which he guessed was probably fair. No one had ever accused him of being easy to deal with. 

“It won’t be much longer,” Helena murmured, although she still looked a little pale. The poor woman had just stepped out of the school when the accident happened. Apparently it had taken a bit of convincing for the paramedics to let her ride with him to the hospital, since they obviously weren’t related. Honey felt bad for scaring her like that, and doubly bad for being such a shit now. He gave a slight nod, trying to settle down. 

He couldn’t help it- he was just so  _ bored _ . It had been about two hours since he’d arrived at the hospital, and after he’d answered the seemingly endless barrage of questions from the nurses, been checked for any obvious physical injuries, and gone through a few tests, he hadn’t had much to do but wait around for the doctor to show up. They wouldn’t even let him play with his phone in case he had a concussion. He definitely hadn’t hit his head  _ that _ hard, but no one would listen to him when he tried to insist. It probably didn’t help his case that everything between the crash and arriving at the hospital had been a bit of a blur. That had less to do with any injuries he’d sustained than the shock of watching a boy his age hold a two-tonne van on his back and then  _ shrug it off _ like a goddamn backpack. If it wasn’t for the steady pulsing of low level pain from where Emmett has gripped his face, he’d almost believe he had imagined the whole incident. It was impossible, but Emmett had saved his life by getting in a fight with a speeding van and  _ winning _ . Just as Honey was about to begin yet another dizzying thought spiral trying to make sense of the day’s events, the door opened, admitting the doctor. 

The second Honey laid eyes on him, he knew that this must be the Cullen patriarch. No one else could possibly look like  _ that-  _ so inhumanly perfect. He was tall (although compared to Honey’s unimpressive height,  _ everyone  _ was tall) and seemed to be well built. Honey didn’t think he’d ever seen someone look that good in scrubs, and as someone who had watched Grey’s Anatomy religiously for an embarrassing amount of time, that was saying something. The man had dark circles under his dark eyes, but somehow didn’t look run down. He held a clipboard in his hands and had a kind smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hart. I’m Doctor Cullen, I’ll be your physician today. Looking at your results, it seems like you have a mild concussion. Nothing to be too concerned about,” The doctor assured, much to Helena’s relief. An uncharitable part of him wondered if it was due to genuine concern for him, or if she was just glad to avoid an uncomfortable situation with DCS. He quickly squashed that thought, knowing it wasn’t fair of him, and tuned in to Doctor Cullen again. “I recommend that you stay home from school for the rest of the week, try to get some rest, and avoid bright lights and screens. Take Tylenol for the pain. Any questions?”

“Are you old enough to be a doctor?”

Honey immediately wanted to crawl to the nearest ditch and bury himself the moment the words left his lips. God, who asked something like that? Although, in his defence, the man looked more like a college undergrad than a medical school graduate. 

Thankfully, Dr. Cullen simply waved the question off. His expression was pleasant enough, but there was something in his eyes, something like wariness, that Honey didn’t really understand. “Not quite what I was expecting, but I get that a lot. I assure you, I’m older than I look.”

“If you say so…” Honey wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t going to argue about it. That would be too much, even for him.

“Should we come back for a follow up?” Helena asked, fingers playing with the edge of her jacket ceaselessly. Honey almost wanted to reach over and put his hand on top of hers, but he refrained for now. 

“Ah, yes,” Doctor Cullen nodded, gesturing toward the door. “If you go see the nurse at the front desk, they will get you a referral form for a follow up appointment. I don’t foresee there being any issues, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Of course,” Helena stood from the hard plastic hospital chair, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She gave Honey a soft smile. “I’ll go take care of that and then we can head home, alright?”

“Alright.”

Helena left, but Doctor Cullen remained. For some reason, Honey wasn’t that surprised. The wariness he had glimpsed before was back, stronger now.

“There’s just one more question, and then you can be discharged. Do you remember exactly how you got those strange bruises on your cheeks?” 

Honey paused for a moment. This was a test, it had to be. The way the doctor was looking at him, he had to have at least an  _ idea _ of what had caused his bruises. Honey’s belief that there was something  _ strange  _ about the Cullen family ratcheted up about 10 degrees. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor, everything happened really fast. I don’t remember a lot of the details, it all sort of blurred together.” The lie came to him easily; lying to adults was basically second nature to him by now. “Why, should I be worried?”

“No, No,” Doctor Cullen waved him off, expression shifting almost imperceptibly to relief. Honey didn’t know if the doctor believed him, but he was at least reassured that Honey wasn’t going to run his mouth. That was good- if the Cullens were some weird ‘roided out cult, then maybe they wouldn’t come after him to silence him. “I was just trying to satisfy my own curiosity. Like I said before, you should be perfectly fine. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go check on one of my other patients. Good day, Mr. Hart.”

Honey watched him go, letting out a tiny breath of relief. He’d just faced a (potential) cult leader and survived. Go him!

Deciding to ride the feeling of success, Honey braced himself and started to sit up slowly, mindful of his aching head. He had to squeeze his eyes shut once he was upright to stave off the dizziness that threatened to make him bring up the pathetic contents of his stomach. As good as breakfast had been the first time around, he didn’t want to experience it for a second time. Helena came in just as he finally decided it was safe to pry his eyelids apart, followed by a male nurse pushing a rickety looking wheelchair. 

“Oh sweetheart, you should have waited for me to come help you, you’re all pale,” Helena fussed. She reached out as if to touch him, but stopped herself. Honey was grateful for that. It had been a long time since he had felt comfortable letting someone touch him casually, especially someone he barely knew. He liked Helena and all, but they weren’t quite there.

“I’m okay, Helena, just a bit of dizziness,” Honey assured her, waving away her concern like so much smoke. He slowly inched inched his legs to the side, shifting around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He winced at the soreness in his body and head on top of the nauseating dizziness he was experiencing. God, almost getting hit by a car sucked worse than  _ actually  _ getting hit by a car. At least then, he might have gotten the good drugs. 

Helena held out her arm in a silent offer, and after a moment, Honey took it. This wasn’t the time for something as trivial as pride. He gripped Helena’s arm and pulled himself to his feet, shuffling a few steps to the side before planting his ass firmly in the wheelchair. Once he was situated, the nurse began to wheel him from the room. Honey gripped the armrests, gritting his teeth and resisting the overwhelming urge to squeeze his eyes shut yet again. Yeah, the wheelchair had been a good idea. He would have ended up embarrassing himself otherwise. As it was, he sat stiffly, eyes trained forward to avoid getting even dizzier. It was because of this that he almost missed seeing Emmett. 

He only saw him by chance, noticing Doctor Cullen first as the nurse pushing him stopped in front of the elevator bank.The doctor, Emmett, and Edward Cullen were huddled together, seemingly having a very intense conversation. It was hard to make out their expressions from so far away, but based on Emmett’s hunched shoulders and ducked head, and Edward and Doctor Cullen’s matching crossed arms, Honey could only guess that the latter two weren’t very happy with the former. Honey frowned to himself. He just knew there was something weird going on with that family, but he didn’t have the first clue of what it could possibly be. 

Edward’s head snapped up, eyes meeting Honey’s with chilling accuracy. Honey didn’t have time to pretend he hadn’t been staring, caught red-handed. Emmett and Doctor Cullen followed suit quickly after, their fathomless dark eyes training on him. Instead of backing down, he raised one eyebrow in challenge. He might not have been able to prove it, but he  _ knew  _ that they had been talking about him. He wasn’t going to get embarrassed about a little bit of staring. 

Edward looked away first, murmuring something to his father and brother before stalking away. If they lived in a cartoon, Honey imagined that there would have been a little thunder cloud hanging over his head. He saw Doctor Cullen reach out and squeeze Emmett’s broad shoulder reassuringly, but any other interaction between the two was lost to him as the elevator doors slid open and the nurse pushed him inside. Honey sighed softly to himself, reaching up to rub at his temples. Yeah, this was all too much to think about right now. He wasn’t in any state to worry about whatever bullshit was going on with the Cullen family. He would worry about that when his head felt more firmly attached to his shoulders.

Honey let his mind drift for the duration of the journey out to the car, checking back in briefly to maneuver himself from the wheelchair to the front seat of Helena’s SUV. After that, everything was a bit of a blur. Maybe the doctor’s diagnosis of a concussion actually was accurate. He remembered letting Helena help him into the house and up to his room, practically tucking him in. He would have protested the blatant mothering, but he didn’t have the heart or the energy at the moment. Instead he closed his eyes, letting his eyes close. Helena left for a few moments before returning with a glass of water and two Tylenol. Honey popped the pills into his mouth first, enjoying the sickly-sweet candy coating for a moment before washing them down. He finished off the whole glass in one go and handed it off to Helena. 

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” Helena murmured, straightening the blankets over top him before taking a few steps away. “I’m going to call Wendy and give her an update. I’ll be back to check on you shortly. 

Honey grunted, not bothering to open his eyes. He figured he could be excused for rudeness, just this once. He was concussed, after all.

_ 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 _

It turned out that staying home sick when you were  _ actually _ sick was boring as hell. Helena had thankfully backed off after the first day, trusting Honey to ask for help when he needed it. Not that Honey would ever ever willingly admit to needing help, of course. He had dealt with worse than a stupid concussion, he would be fine. His dizziness had abated for the most part, although he still found it hard to handle bright light or excessive movement. His head pounded at even the thought of looking at his phone screen for more than a quick moment. He could read, but he wasn’t quite  _ that _ desperate yet. By the time Saturday rolled around, Honey was almost looking forward to going back to school. It would give him something to do that wasn’t napping or staring up at his ceiling, at least.

He was currently doing the latter, listening to music at a low volume while he searched for images in the irregularities on the ceiling. So far he had found a spot that sort of looked like a dog, if he unfocused his eyes and tilted his head a little. He could hear the faint sound of Helena puttering around upstairs, presumably working on her art. She had invited Honey to join her so he wasn’t stuck in his room by himself, but he had declined. He appreciated the gesture, but he didn’t think they were on a level where spending hours alone together could be anything but awkward. He was just about to roll over and start on another nap when he heard a knock at the door. 

“I got it!” He shouted at the ceiling, rolling off the bed. Helena called back an acknowledgment, although he couldn’t quite make her out through the floorboards. He grabbed the nearest clothes (a black tank top with the words ‘Men want me, fish fear me’ and a pair of hot pink pajama shorts) and struggled into them before heading down the stairs. Ugh, he really hoped it wasn’t Jevovah’s Witnesses. He wasn’t in the mood to be polite to religious cultists today. 

When he opened the door, he was both surprised and delighted to find M.L standing on the porch. He was thrown for a moment as to how they knew where he lived, before remembering- everybody knew everybody in such a small town, and M.L knew he lived with the Greenes. They grinned when they saw him, hitching their bookbag up from where it had begun slipping down his shoulder. “You look good for a guy who got hit by a car.”

“Don’t be dramatic, I only  _ almost _ got hit by a car,” Honey rolled his eyes fondly, shifting to the side so M.L could come in. 

“Bad luck- at least if you had actually gotten hit, you might have gotten some money out of the situation.”

Honey frowned. “Goddamn it. Think I could still fake some soft tissue damage?”

“Please don’t commit insurance fraud,” Helena appeared at the top of the stairs, wiping her hands on an olg rag before stuffing it into the pocket of her paint splattered overalls. She smiled kindly at M.L. “Good morning, M.L. How’s your mother doing?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Greene,” M.L greeted, perfectly polite. “Mom is good, she told me to tell you thanks for lending her that book, and she’s almost done with it.”

Helena waved her hand, heading toward the kitchen. “Just call me Helena, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re here to help Honey catch up on the stuff he missed this week?”

“Just in psychology and English, we don’t have any other classes in common,” M.L shot Honey an apologetic look, but he just shrugged. He had a  _ brain injury _ \- he was pretty sure the teachers would cut him a little slack. If not, well it wasn’t like he was unaccustomed to having shitty marks. 

“That’s kind of you. You guys go work upstairs, I’m going to start making lunch soon. I was thinking about making quesadillas, if that’s good with you two?”

“That sounds great. Thanks Helena,” Honey smiled, waiting for M.L to step out of their shoes before leading them upstairs. He had them wait in the hallway for a moment while he tossed his dirty clothes in the hamper and made his bed before inviting them in. 

They let out a low whistle, looking around. “Your room is like, twice the size of mine. Lucky.”

“Yeah, this is the best room I’ve ever had,” Honey agreed, sitting down on his bed. M.L dropped their backpack on the floor, pulling out a stack of papers and textbooks. 

Honey had to stop himself from groaning. Okay, he knew that he had to at least try to catch up on his missed work, but that didn’t mean he  _ wanted _ to do it. 

M.L rolled their eyes at him. “Boring school work first, and then we can chill.”

“You’re a cruel taskmaster,” Honey pouted, flopping backward onto his pillows. M.L didn’t look very sympathetic.

“Come on, drama king, it’s not that bad,” They teased, nudging him with their thigh as they climbed onto the bed beside him. They flipped open their psychology textbook, back propped against the wall. 

“Say Mx. Brainiac,” Honey huffed, but did as he was told. M.L was right- the sooner they got this done, the sooner they could just hang out. 

Thankfully, it turned out that teachers went easy on you when you almost died on school grounds. He didn’t have to do either of the in-class assignments from English, and only one of them from Psychology. M.L spent some time going over the notes they had taken for him in both classes until he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be any further behind than he had been on Wednesday morning. He wasn’t too worried about Art or Photography, knowing his teachers would probably give him extra time to work on his assignments in class. He was still kind of fucked for Math and Chemistry, but he could only hope that his teachers in those classes were merciful. If he was really lucky, maybe Emmett would take notes for him in Chem. 

Once they were done with school work, M.L and Honey got comfortable on Honey’s bed. He was surprised at just  _ how _ comfortable the situation was for him. Normally he hated having people in his space, even friends. Hell, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d invited a friend over and still have fingers to spare. With M.L though, he didn’t have any of his normal anxieties or discomfort. It was just nice. 

“So,” Honey started, propping his pillow up under his head and curling on his side. “On a scale from “How has school been since my near-death experience?”

“Boring as fuck, mostly,” M.L scrunched their nose up. “Everyone was freaking out on Wednesday, but it was mostly a bunch of assholes trying to use the drama as an excuse to go home early. One girl even tried to say she had to go home because some broken glass hit her. I saw it- it was barely a scratch. Things calmed down once people realized that wasn’t going to happen.”

“Vultures. I’m the only one who gets to milk my injury for sympathy and special treatment,” Honey said. He then frowned at the mention of the girl though, remembering someone who had been much more than a bystander and was probably actually injured. “Did Emmett seem okay?”

M.L’s expression did something complicated, flickering between confusion, concern, and something akin to dread. “Cullen? What about him? Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

Honey opened his mouth to answer, before hesitating. This felt like the kind of thing he shouldn’t share casually. Not just because it would make him sound crazy, but the way the Cullen men had looked at him at the hospital… He had a feeling that if the story got out, it wouldn’t end very well for him. 

“Can you keep a secret?” He asked instead. M.L frowned at him, expression shifting fully into the ‘concern’ territory. 

“I have six brothers, of course I can keep a secret,” M.L said, shaking their head at him. “What happened?”

“Okay, so this is going to sound insane,” Honey started. He figured it didn't hurt to warn them, after all. “But I swear to god, Emmett Cullen stopped the other car from hitting me.”

“What? How?” M.L demanded, their eyes going wide. Honey noticed that they looked more upset than confused or disbelieving, but he brushed it off. 

“I have no clue. One second he was on the other side of the parking lot, and the next I’m on the ground and he’s hovering over me with 4.000 pounds worth of vehicle on him. Then he just  _ shrugged it off. _ ” Honey’s voice was shaking my the time he finished, and he had to clench his hands into fists. Saying it out loud made it feel more real, like a thing that had actually happened. 

“You’re right- that does sound insane...” M.L said. Honey felt his stomach sink, but before he could think of something to say, they continued. “But I believe you. And to answer your original question, I don’t know if he’s okay, because he hasn’t been at school since the accident. The other Cullens have, just not him.”

Jesus, this just got weirder and weirder. “On one hand, I want to know what the fuck happened. But on the other, I’m kind of scared that that the Cullens are cultists, and I really don’t need that kind of drama in my life right now.”

M.L laughed, and Honey hadn’t even noticed how tense they were until it bled out of them. “I mean, they do have a vaguely cult-y vibe, so that’s a valid concern. In any case, I think it’s better if you drop it. Sometimes, the truth is better left unknown.”

Even as he nodded along, Honey knew that he wouldn’t be able to follow M.L’s advice. After all, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. 

_ 000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 _

M.L stayed for another three hours, eating lunch and spending a while shooting the shit with him before they had to head home. Honey ended up taking a short nap after they left, waking up just in time for dinner. He washed up in his bathroom, throwing a hoodie on over his tank top before heading downstairs. When he got to the kitchen, Helena and Wendall were just finishing up the last touches of dinner. Or well, Helena finishing up- Wendall seemed to be dividing his time between helping and pestering his wife. Helena thankfully seemed to find it amusing, a fondly exasperated expression on her face as she smacked his hand away from the cheese she was grating. Honey had to admit that it made the older man seem a little less intimidating, watching the pair interact. Helena noticed his presence first, nodding at him. 

“Morning, sleepyhead. Now that you’re up, would you mind getting the garlic bread ready? That’s what this cheese is for.” Helena requested, gesturing toward the loaf of Italian bread on the cutting board. 

Never one to pass up the opportunity for cheesy garlic bread, Honey let out a hum of agreement. He found the butter and garlic powder thankfully already on the counter, so he didn’t have to worry about hunting through the cupboards for them. He retrieved the bread knife from the drawer, slicing about half of the loaf, buttering each slice before laying them out on a baking tray. He sprinkled the garlic powder and cheese on top, popping the tray into the oven below a lasagna that looked like it was almost done. Honey felt his stomach growl in anticipation. While he wasn’t the biggest fan of pasta in general, he had a special place in his heart for lasagna. Probably because it was so filling, and pretty damn hard to screw up. Honey noticed that Wendall and Helena both seemed preoccupied with cleaning up, so he made himself useful, setting the table with knives, forks, and glasses, as well as a plate for everyone. It was instinct at this point, drilled into him by countless foster families over the years. He still felt a little warm when Helena gave him a genuine thank you as she finished wiping down the counter. 

Once the lasagna and garlic bread had been taken from the oven and they’d all sat down to eat, Honey found his mind wandering inevitably back to the Cullens in general, and Emmett in particular. He needed to know what the general consensus on the Cullens was. He knew M.L wasn’t a fan of Emmett and his family, but something about that felt oddly personal. After a moment or two of debating whether he really wanted to bring it up, he decided to just bite the bullet and ask. 

“How well do you guys know the Cullens?” he asked, wincing at how awkwardly that question had come out. Wendall furrowed his brow as if he had to think about it, but Helena nodded right away. 

“Esme Cullen is on a lot of the same volunteer committees that I am. A very lovely woman, outside and in,” Helena answered. Wendall smacked the table with his palm, seeming to remember something. 

“Right! She’s the one that made those fancy cupcakes for the bake sale in August. Seems like a mighty fine woman.”

“Of course that’s what would jog your memory, old man. I swear, all you think about is food,” Helena laughed, shaking her head at her husband, before turning her attention back to Honey. “And of course, Dr. Cullen is the one who looked after you. Why do you ask?”

Honey shrugged one shoulder, attempting to look casual. “No real reason, I guess. The kids go to school with me, and they just seemed interesting.”

“Well I can’t say I’ve had much interaction with the kids, but they seem to be nice enough. They’re certainly a very beautiful family, that’s for certain. Has one of them caught your eye?” Helena asked, which- No. It didn’t matter how nice and kind his new foster parents seemed, he was  _ not  _ going there with them. 

“No! No, nothing like that. I was just talking with M.L about them, and they said that the Cullens are sorta weird, so-”

Helena interrupted, looking actually angry for the first time since Honey had met her. “Don’t you listen to that kind of talk, Honey. People around here are so set in their ‘right’ way of doing things, they think anyone who deviates is weird and wrong. Hell, folks thought Wendall and I were strange when we decided to start fostering, didn’t they?”

“Sure did, Helly,” Wendall agreed, nodding along with his wife. “I think that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen are admirable, adopting and fostering four teens at once, and at such a young age themselves.”

“No, no, I don’t think M.L meant it like that,” Honey interjected quickly. He didn’t need his foster parents deciding that his only friend was an asshole. “I mean, they know I’m a foster kid, and they aren’t weird about it, so.”

“Hmm, alright then,” Helena nodded, looking somewhat appeased. “In any case, don’t let other people’s assessments skew your own. They aren’t perfect, nobody is, but from what I can tell they’re good people, they don’t cause any sort of trouble. Beyond that, there’s not much else I can say on the matter.”

Honey nodded, letting the conversation go. Before long, talk turned to other things, Helena and Wendall recounting their days and encouraging Honey to do the same- not that he had much to talk about. Helena asked him if he felt ready to return to school on Monday, and he agreed that he was. As the evening wore on into the night, Honey found the Cullens slipping right out of his mind, at least for now. 


End file.
